


Look to the Sky

by RamblingMegome



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol, All OCs are for plot purposes, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armin/Mikasa Friendship, Attempts at explaining sciencey things, Canon Divergence, Character's Name Spelled as Hanji, Conspiracy, Dashes of humor and fluff, Descriptions of violence and blood, Dumb Decisions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eremin - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Guilt Issues, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, I lied there's a lot more than just "dashes" of fluff, Introspection, Kidnapping, Lots of plot, M/M, Misunderstandings, Narrative Rambling, Nostalgia, Pining, Psychological Torture, Self Confidence Issues, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Tags Subject to Change, They/Them Pronouns for Hanji, What-If, alcohol consumption, because I'm a huge sap who physically cannot resist it, canonverse, long fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 166,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingMegome/pseuds/RamblingMegome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[COMPLETE] - Inspired by the (confirmed!) theory that Armin's parents were the balloon couple</p><p>The war wears on, a seemingly endless cycle of hopeless repetition. Armin has begun to despair of ever seeing the ocean, but the chance discovery of an old invention could be the breakthrough humanity needs. As Armin struggles with his outlook and his feelings for his best friend, the past comes back in more ways than one, and the gears of something bigger begin to turn...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This first chapter is essentially a prologue setting up the main plot. This is the ONLY chapter that doesn't focus on the real protagonists.
> 
> Alright, bear with me here. This story is the result of me completely latching onto one panel in one chapter of the manga, and letting my imagination run with it. This is canonverse but canon-divergent, so I played around with the timeline and events a lot for my purposes. There are also OCs, strictly for plot/background purposes.

The room was dark but for the thin shaft of light from a partially open door, which cut sharply across the stone floor and illuminated cluttered shelves and a scattered disarray of old, crisp papers and scrolls. The place hadn’t been touched in years – the dust that glittered in the light from the corridor was almost like fog. But the figure crouched on the floor seemed unbothered by this, hunched over an old, battered book that had fallen open in the path of light. The figure didn’t move, even when light footsteps clicked down the hall and the door creaked further open, a tall shadow falling across the pages.

“Hey, four-eyes! What the hell are you doing in a filthy place like this? In case it slipped that Titan-addled brain of yours, we have a meeting to get to. Now get your dusty ass back upstairs or the MPs will have our hides. They already look like they’re about to bust some blood vessels, and damned if I’m gonna clean that mess up.”

The newcomer’s harsh voice was slightly muffled by the crisp white handkerchief he held over his nose and mouth. He was much shorter than his impressive shadow had suggested, his free hand on his hip as he glared daggers into the dark room. The figure within finally stirred and looked up, the glint of light off metal frames obscuring the wide-eyed stare beneath.

“Levi… I’ve just found something incredible.”

Something was wrong. Levi’s scowl deepened at the odd sobriety of the crouching figure’s voice. “More incredible than the ass-kicking I’m about to give you?”

“Come and see.”

“If you think I’m setting one foot in that breeding ground of filth...”

Hanji’s figure came alive. They shook off the tension of the awkward position and stood, a few stray pages fluttering out of the book as they picked it up in both hands, careful not to lose the place. They moved with none of their usual vigor but stepped slowly, almost pensively, into the corridor, the way they moved when they were deeply immersed in thought about some experiment or new weapon.

“Look.”

Balancing the dusty book on one hand they pointed with the other, and as Levi scanned the faded text his eyes narrowed, then widened in realization. The handkerchief slipped away from his face as his hand fell to his side.

“We can _use_ this,” Hanji said, and behind their voice was a hint of the usual spark of manic enthusiasm as excitement threatened to overtake their contemplation.

“We could,” the short man replied slowly. He raised a hand, one slim, calloused finger hovering just over a spot on the page, letters were slightly smudged with some old stain. “But isn’t this…?”

Hanji’s lips pressed into a grim line. “It would seem so.”

“Shit...”

“But look at this, it’s genius! Maria, I can’t believe we didn’t think of this first. Just imagine what we could do with it!”

“Oh, I am.” Levi twisted the handkerchief between his fingers thoughtfully, then looked up at Hanji with a decisive glint in his eye. “Why don’t we take this upstairs and ask the MPs what exactly they did with this thing?”

He didn’t even need to see Hanji’s grin to know their response.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _That_ old thing?”

The soldier standing before the desk shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, sir. Apparently the Survey Corps has requisitioned it. Sergeant Forbes says we don’t really have a reason to say no – they’re all just rushing to their deaths anyway, and this’ll probably just speed up the process.” She punctuated this with a sneer.

Heinrich, who had spent the last forty-odd years as a trusted bookkeeper of the Military Police and was quite familiar with the contents of the contraband room, frowned a little. He had a fairly distinct memory of the item in question, precisely because it was so strange. He had seen his share of oddities confiscated in his day, but nothing had unsettled him quite so much as this one. He just couldn’t understand why some people would want to do the crazy things they did. He looked down at the piece of paper the soldier had handed him, then at the entry in his ledger with the corresponding number as if the brief, dispassionate description of the item held the answers.

“Well, let’s get this over with, then,” he said, leaning creakily down to take the gas lamp out of its corner and heaving himself out of his chair with some difficulty. He’d been getting rather portly lately – he glanced down at his desk, strewn with scattered papers and dry ink wells. The sedentary years of record-keeping, notating, and fine wines with Theol were finally beginning to take their toll. He glanced at the other soldier. “I’ll need your help with this, Private. It’s too big for me to haul out by myself. Let’s go.”

“Yes sir,” the soldier said with a salute, though she seemed a little disgruntled. She looked young, couldn’t have been in the MPs for more than a year or two. That would account for her cheeky attitude. It wasn’t uncommon for the newer soldiers to let the privilege of gaining an elite, widely-desired position go to their heads. No, it certainly wasn’t a surprise, Heinrich thought with a sniff as he led the young woman down the hallway and unlocked the creaky wooden door at the end. After pausing to light the lamp, he began to heft himself down the long stairway, one hand on the slightly rusted railing for support. After the years of tough training, self-denial, and hard work it took to become one of the select few eligible to join the Military Police, he supposed it was natural to indulge oneself a bit after attaining such a secure position. Even he’d had his moments, back in the day. And he couldn’t blame the youngsters for looking down on the poor saps who joined the Survey Corps, either. He figured it was only natural to feel superior, from the standpoint of luxury, to those who threw their lives away outside the Walls. But the kids would eventually come around to their noble cause, he was sure. Their true purpose was, in the end, not to their own indulgences, but to the Crown – the _true_ Crown – and to the greater good.

At the bottom of the stairs was another long hallway lined with doors, some made of battered wood, others of polished steel. They finally stopped at one of the latter at the very end of the corridor. Heinrich fumbled with his key ring, sorting through the many clinking bits of metal for the right one while the young soldier fidgeted quietly behind him. The door creaked open and the lamp cast its flickering light on a large, dusty room, cluttered with crates and other objects of various sizes. This room hadn’t been opened in a while – there hadn’t been many incidents lately, and this pleased Heinrich, who took this to mean that the people were peaceful and happy. And this was, he was sure, due in part to the Military Police’s efforts to curb discontent. They all had their roles to play, especially in these trying times.

He didn’t need to look at the number on the paper he held in his hand to remember where the item in question was. He shuffled purposefully over to the back corner. The object hadn’t been moved since it had been brought in, though its large shadow nearly blended in with the stacks of numbered contraband surrounding it. He saw that two crates had been stored inside its concave shape, one atop the other, in the interest of saving space. He stopped before it, gesturing impatiently at the young officer, who had paused to look curiously at a crudely-made torture rack. Remembering the vigilante nutjob responsible for _that_ incident made Heinrich sniff in disapproval. What a misguided sense of justice some people had.

“Help me lift these crates out,” he said to the young officer, setting the lantern down and reaching for the one on top. Together they hefted it out and aside with little difficulty, but the second one proved more of a challenge, as they had to lean over the tall rim of the object to reach it. Heinrich had the soldier climb inside to get better leverage on it – he would have done so himself, but the old legs were less flexible than they used to be, and he wasn’t about to humiliate himself in front of a Private.

The second crate seemed to have much heavier contents than the first, because the young officer nearly lost her grip on it as she heaved it off the floor. Struggling to keep hold of it, she overbalanced and tipped forward, the flat side of the crate smacking against the item’s inner edge. She buckled under the weight of it combined with her awkward, doubled-over position and there was a slight tearing sound as the crate slid down against the inner wall. Heinrich hurried to help, and when she regained her footing they managed to heft it over the side and onto the floor with a heavy _thunk_.

Heinrich panted a bit as he caught his breath, frowning at the crate and looking the item over. It was much bigger than he seemed to remember, and as the young officer bent down in the basket he caught sight of a huge blanket-like object draped in thick folds over the far rim. They might need to call down a few extra hands, after all. He sighed, glancing back over his shoulder at the door, imagining the long walk back up, and the long walk back down, and back up… he would’ve preferred to get this done in one trip. Absentmindedly he turned back around in time to see the soldier stand back up, something in her hand. Heinrich’s brow furrowed at the small folded bundle. There had been nothing about papers in the ledger, he was sure of it.

“What’s that, Private?”

“The crate tore open a bit of the inner lining and these fell out, sir.”

Heinrich wordlessly reached out and the young officer obediently handed them over. He unfolded them, not expecting much, but when the dim lamplight fell on the surface of the pages his hands froze. A million thoughts rushed through his mind in the dead silence of the dusty room.

Private Orwel shuffled uncomfortably, eyes drifting back to the torture rack. She wanted to sneeze, and she was late to meet her friends for cards. Wondering if they were almost done, she looked back at the old bookkeeper and blinked when she saw that his face had gone white.

“Sir…?”

Heinrich’s gaze rose slowly to meet hers.

“Go upstairs and tell Forbes to find Major Adler. _Now._ ”

 

* * *

 

A few uniformed figures huddled around a small table in dim lamplight, heads bent close together over the documents scattered between them, their voices hushed and urgent.

“Are we certain this isn’t a mistake?”

“That thing hasn’t been touched in years. How could it be?”

“And these went missing sometime before it came in… I always thought it was fishy how they suddenly reappeared.”

“I knew they couldn’t have just been misplaced.”

“This is bad. These are copies, what if there are more?”

“We can’t let this get out.”

“It might already _be_ out.”

“If that’s the case, we might as well throw ourselves off the Wall and be done with it.”

The figure at the head of the table, who had been silently contemplating the documents, spoke up, his sharp voice cutting through the murmurs as the rest of the company fell silent.

“If it is out, they’re doing a damn good job of hiding it. We may be thirteen years late, but we might still be able to save our asses. What we need to do is figure out if there’s anyone else who knows about this. Keller, have you looked in the family registry?”

“I have, sir.” A round, balding man in his fifties shuffled the sheet of paper in front of him. “The owners are long dead. According to the investigation report, they didn’t have many close friends with whom they might have shared these. Eccentrics, you know.” He gave a little sniff of disdain. “Most of the people they associated with died in the Fall of Maria.”

“Surviving relatives?”

“Only one. A son. But he was just a toddler when…”

“Doesn’t matter. Where is he now?”

“He appears to have joined the Survey Corps upon completion of his military training five years ago.”

“The Survey Corps…” The man thoughtfully rolled the words around on his tongue with an expression of something akin to amusement. “Didn’t you say the Survey Corps issued a requisition for the thing you found these in?”

“Yes, sir.”

Major Adler’s mouth split into a grin that looked unnaturally wide on his narrow face. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been rolling this idea around in my head for months and I feel like I've finally made enough headway on it to start sharing it. I'd like to stay ahead so I'm not going to post until I've finished the current chapter, but I'm going to aim to update at least once every two weeks, since that's roughly how long it's been taking me to write one chapter. I'll try to cut down on procrastination time though.
> 
> Thanks for reading this far - I promise there will be some Armin and Eren in the next chapter! This is gonna be a really plot-heavy story, so I hope this wasn't too tough to read as an introduction.


	2. Blunders

“Shit!”

Armin plummeted through the air as the right hook of his maneuver gear wrenched out of the tree, tearing a chunk of rotten wood out with it. He twisted quickly and shot off his left grapple, and it buried itself into a sturdier trunk. He snapped forward at the sudden change in momentum, the arc sending him plunging ahead into the foliage of the lower branches, his spine screaming at the angle. But that was forgotten in an instant when his knee connected with a thicker branch with a loud _crack!_ He cried out as the sharp pain searing through his leg threatened to eclipse every other sensation in his body, and his hook nearly missed the next tree as he swung unsteadily in the air, a combination of loss of focus and loss of momentum. But he grit his teeth and shook off the tears that had sprung unbidden to his eyes, knowing that distraction would end in worse than just some bumps and bruises. His cables pulled him away from the obstructing leaves, the thinner branches catching sharply at his face as if reluctant to let him go. He took a few steadying breaths, reorienting, and swung back onto the course.

Nevertheless, his little misadventure had cost him some time, and when he reached the designated clearing, trying his best not to let his knee buckle too much as he landed, he saw he was the last one. The rest of the Survey Corps’ main force were already gathered, some standing around chatting, others sitting and resting. The senior officer in charge of overseeing today’s drills glanced up at him, marked him down on her clipboard, then pushed herself off of the tree she’d been leaning on and called out, voice resounding through the clearing at surprising volume.

“Alright, Privates! Let’s head back to base for laps, and then you’re done for today. Up and at ‘em, Springer!” She directed this last comment at Connie, who was sprawled on his back with his legs propped up against a tree trunk, apparently sleeping.

Armin groaned internally at the thought of running laps on his throbbing knee. He tried, semi-successfully, not to limp as he moved with the crowd into the short expanse of forest that separated the clearing from their current headquarters. He kept to the back, not really in the mood to mingle with the others. He was still slow, despite the years of training he’d had with maneuver gear, but it had been a long while since he’d come in dead last during drills. With the influx of recruits over the past couple of years – especially with the wave of eager new faces that accompanied the morale boost after they’d retaken Wall Maria – there had arrived a few soldiers even slower than Armin. He was still well behind the times of most of his friends from his year, and he could deal with his place towards the rear of the pack. He had never had any illusions about his own physical aptitude. But coming in last again after all this time, even after all that training… it still stung, still lit the dull pangs of humiliation and dejection in the pit of his stomach that he thought he’d smothered out years ago. And how many more years would he have to do this? He wondered. How many more years of drills, of timed runs, of obstacle courses, of comparing himself with others, of falling behind new recruits? All he wanted was to see the ocean, for Sina’s sake. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he saw further than fifty meters out the gate.

“Hey.” A familiar voice broke him out of his reverie and he looked up to see Eren slipping into place beside him, glancing briefly down at him with a half-smile. “Lucky for us we get Ruth for drill instructor this week, huh? She always goes easy on us after expeditions.”

“Yeah,” Armin agreed quietly, fixing his eyes on the shins of the soldiers in front of him. He knew what this was – it was Eren trying not to come off like he was babying him. And Armin knew he didn’t mean it that way, he was just concerned, and in a way he appreciated the effort to preserve his pride. But like always, Eren couldn’t beat around the bush very long, and his murky, blue-green gaze slid back over to fix intently on Armin.

“Are you okay? You’re covered in scratches.”

His already lowered spirits sank even further. _Don’t make it worse by worrying about me,_ he thought. What he said was, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just got caught in some branches, that’s all.”

Eren frowned a little. “Did something happen? You’re good with your gear.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you limping?”

“No?” Armin lied badly, then cursed as his foot snagged on a branch and his knee nearly gave out under the sudden weight as he caught himself on it. Eren grabbed him before he could fall, though, catching him around the ribs and holding him steady. Damn trees really had it out for him today.

He let out a deep sigh, hating the slight tremor in it, and gave up. He couldn’t lie to Eren, who was a lot more perceptive about these things than some of their peers gave him credit for. “I hit my knee on a branch. It was my own fault, I hooked a rotting tree like a moron, I should’ve noticed the discoloration.” And now here he was needing help again, making Eren hang back for him like he was some useless trainee again. He thought he’d come so far.

The taller boy’s eyebrows were knitting together in concern. “How bad is it? Do you think you need to get it checked? D’you think you should sit out of laps…?”

“No,” Armin protested firmly, stomach clenching at the thought. “I’m fine, really. It’s not that bad.” He had his pride, and he wasn’t five anymore – he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit out of basic drills just because he got a little banged up.

“Armin.” Eren’s jaw set in a gesture Armin knew all too well as a signifier of his own stubborn streak. “I know you don’t want to, but what if you really hurt yourself? It’s not hard to break something when you’re using maneuver gear. If it's bad, you don’t want to make it worse by running laps on it.”

The worst part was that he was right, and Armin knew it. But he just… The thought of slinking off to the infirmary while everyone else finished up drills, the drills they were all used to because they’d been doing them almost every day for years, made him feel so weak. He knew his real strengths lay elsewhere, but he was still a soldier, and he should be able to perform at the bare minimum. And he knew he could do better than the bare minimum.

So he smiled thinly up at Eren. “If this were an expedition, sitting out would not be an option,” he replied calmly. “I’m going to run the laps. If it still seems bad after that, I’ll go to the infirmary. But I will finish the drills first.”

They stared at each other for a long moment in a silent battle of wills. They were still standing where Armin had tripped, and the rest of the pack had gone on ahead, leaving them alone with the soft rustle of new leaves in the light spring breeze.

“Fine.” Eren relented with a helpless shake of the head and the slightest hint of a smile. “But at least let me check to make sure nothing’s broken, first.”

Armin looked at him for a moment, mentally measuring whether there would be any point to arguing that, too. But the firm expectation in his green eyes answered that as he motioned wordlessly for Armin to sit on a nearby log, and the blonde let out a long, slow huff of air through his nose before giving in. Eren crouched in front of him and carefully tugged the top of Armin’s left boot down enough to give him room to look.

“This one, right? Can you straighten your leg out for me?”

Armin nodded and complied, lips pressed together as he braced for contact. He winced when Eren’s fingers gingerly closed around his leg just above the knee. The taller boy grimaced apologetically up at him. Every soldier was trained in basic first aid, so theoretically Armin could have done this, but he knew Eren, who had done more extensive training in the infirmary with Hanji when they were shortstaffed, wouldn’t be satisfied unless he did it himself.

So he watched as Eren gently felt his knee and the surrounding areas, checking for anything out of the ordinary, head bent and brow furrowed with the same intense focus he applied to everything he set his mind to. And despite the throbbing pain in his leg, despite the unhappy jumble in his brain, Armin felt himself softening. Eren was known amongst their peers for a number of things – for his shifting ability, for his wild temper, for his ardent hatred of Titans – but very few of them would suspect him capable of being as gentle as this. It made the blonde’s chest tighten despite himself, the usual confused mix of affection and shame.

“Sorry,” Eren murmured, and it took Armin a moment to come out of his reverie enough to remember that he wasn’t apologizing for the mess of emotion roiling beneath his ribcage. “I know you hate it when I do this. I don’t mean to be… I mean, I know you can take care of yourself. It’s just…” The brunette gave a loose shrug, eyes roving somewhere in the distance before settling back on Armin’s. His hand rested cupped around the curve of Armin’s calf, thumb rubbing soft unconscious circles there. “Sometimes I get worried that your own stubbornness is a bigger threat to you than anything.” He gave a sheepish grin, and Armin couldn’t help but return it. “Doesn’t seem broken, by the way, but you’re probably gonna have a real nasty bruise.”

“Thanks.” He resisted the urge to reach out and smooth his fingers through Eren’s hair, and traced the bark of the log instead. “I know. I appreciate your concern, I really do. I… I’m just funny about these things.” And it was funny, in the least amusing sense of the word, how Eren’s attention, Eren’s _care_ , sent a dark swell of guilt to the pit of his stomach while simultaneously flooding him with warmth. He’d been trying to adjust to these contradictions for years, but they never seemed to get any less unpleasant.

He readjusted his boot as Eren stood and held out a hand. Armin hesitated for a split second before he took it and allowed himself to be helped up. Eren didn’t let go.

“I guess I have to let you run laps now, huh.”

"Let me? Hah. Just try and stop me."

The taller boy smiled down at him and reached up with his free hand to brush fingers into his hair. They came away with a small leaf.

“Nah. I wouldn't stand a chance.”

Still hand in hand, they started off towards base again. Armin couldn’t help but steal glances up at Eren’s profile as they walked. The sharp downward curve of his nose, the smooth rise of his cheekbones, the tan of his skin, the dark serious brows set over fierce green eyes, the tousled brown locks strewn carelessly across his forehead… it was _Eren,_ Eren his best friend, Eren who was still here, still with him now; Eren who was older and broader and so much more worn, so much less innocent, than all those years ago when the world was made of sunlight and dreamscapes and Titans were only a distant nightmare. But even when the nightmare closed in upon them, even when the skin beneath his eyes grew bruised and hollow from all the blood and screams and weariness, Eren never lost the fierce gleam of determination in his gaze, never lost the wild passion that drove him ever forward, never stopped slipping his warm hand into Armin’s. And Armin’s chest ached with how much he loved him for it.

They emerged from the woods into the wide field that housed the close smattering of buildings serving as their headquarters, where their fellow soldiers were already well into their laps. Sasha hooted at them as she ran past, which was quickly echoed by Connie and picked up by one or two others. Armin thought of how they must look, following everyone out late, holding hands, Armin’s hair undoubtedly mussed from the tree’s assault. The assumption this inevitably led to was really nothing new, but his gut gave a little twist anyway.

Eren gave his hand a squeeze. “See you at mess,” he said as he pulled away, jogging backwards for a couple steps before he turned to run. Armin just rolled his eyes in response. He felt much lighter than he had ten minutes ago, but also like a weight had settled into his belly.

It was funny, how Eren did that to him. Funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I promised the boys would be in this chapter!
> 
> I hope Eren didn't come off as too overbearing. I think that, while he recognizes he sometimes needs to give Armin some space and not baby him, he sometimes can't help but get protective when he's worried. Especially because Armin is so stubborn he would totally try and run laps on a broken leg. I think Eren would rather hurt his pride a little than let him fuck his body up.
> 
> Anyway, there's a bunch of internal stuff, emotional establishment and whatnot, going on in this chapter. Bit of angst. Bit of fluff. Hope it was worth your time. Thanks for reading!


	3. Stasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin thinks about a lot of things, and the plot finally arrives.

Running on a busted knee was about as fun as he’d expected, and by the time Armin finished his laps (last, of course), his jaw was almost as sore as his leg because of how hard he’d been gritting his teeth. The day had barely started and he already wanted it to be over. On the bright side, at least he had the showers to himself. It was a rare and welcome moment of privacy and some of the tension eased from his bones as he slumped down on the bench to tug his boots off, for once not surrounded by a swarm of chattering men.

He shed his harness and winced when he peeled off his pants and saw the extent of the bruise, which blossomed out from his kneecap like an ugly purple flower. He was almost surprised it wasn’t worse – he’d seen his share of bad maneuver gear injuries, most notably back in training. Once, one of the cadets in his group had gone too heavy on the gas, lost control, and ended up paralyzed from the waist down after careening into one of the practice dummies. Others had been less fortunate. Armin knew how easily a small slip-up could lead to a serious injury, and he counted himself lucky that such a rookie mistake had left him with only a bad bruise. He was also lucky that he was on gear maintenance today, rather than stable duty or something that needed him to be on his feet.

He took advantage of his solitude to let himself stand beneath the soothing rush of hot water longer than usual. He was so used to the constant bustle of activity around him, the constant alertness to the other people shifting and breathing around him, that sometimes he forgot what it was like to be alone. It was nice to be free of the constant weight of other gazes, however imagined their scrutiny might be, to be able to turn off the part of his brain that was always tuned in to their presence and to just _exist_. He turned his face up into the stream of water, letting it run in rivulets over the contours of his face and down his throat. On another day, he might’ve considered using this time to blow off some steam, but the morning’s events still hung over him and he wasn't much in the mood for it. As if the sharp throbbing in his kneecap wasn’t enough, he could still remember, still almost feel, the sudden crack of pain through his leg when he hit the branch. The sting of the branches on his face. The rough warm hand curled around his calf…

He shook his head vigorously, sending water droplets flying through the air, and decided it was time to get out. He didn’t want to stay on his leg too much longer, after all.

\--

Eren spotted him immediately when he entered the mess hall and got his attention with a hand thrust high in the air. Armin set his tray down at the spot Eren had saved between himself and Sasha, gingerly lifting his leg over the bench. Mikasa watched him closely from across the table as he did so. He met her steady gaze and gave a tired smile.

“I’m fine, really. I’m sure Eren told you, it’s just a bruise.”

She nodded briefly. “Yes, he did. I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.” She took a slow sip of her water, still watching him in a way that he knew meant that she didn’t consider the issue resolved.

“How were your drills?” He asked hurriedly, trying to head off any further questioning. He didn’t really want to get into it – not here, in the middle of the crowded mess hall, with people all around them and Sasha edging closer to his full tray in a manner she evidently thought was subtle.

Mikasa shrugged as she set her cup down and leaned forward on her elbows, getting the hint. “Fine. A lot less strict with Corporal Levi away.”

“No kidding,” Eren snorted, tearing at the remainder of his bread roll with his teeth. “Working with him makes Shardis seem like the old lady down the street who bakes you cookies. I don’t envy you at all.”

Mikasa was permanently assigned to Levi’s elite squad, and so she did most of her drills and training with the other members, under the Corporal’s direct instruction. Armin sometimes saw them practicing complex three-dimensional maneuvers that made him marvel at how much whiplash the human body could withstand. He didn’t envy her either, being fairly content with his place in Hanji’s squad with Eren. Their squad mostly drilled with the main force of soldiers, but on occasion they were called in for special training, which usually involved helping out with experiments concerning Eren’s shifting abilities, or playing guinea pig for the exuberant Squad Leader’s inventions. Hanji’s and Levi’s squads usually worked together on expeditions, though, which did mean the occasional collaborative training session or teambuilding exercise. Personally, Armin had always found the Corporal much more intimidating in training than on the battlefield... woe betide the poor soldier who showed up to Levi’s roll call with a smudge on their gear or a hair out of place. At least in the field his wrath was directed elsewhere.

“It is nice to get a break,” Mikasa admitted as Armin started in on his thin soup. Her plate was already spotless. “He and the rest of Command should be back within the next day or so, though. They’re late as it is.”

Eren grimaced. “Yeah, and I bet Hanji will want to make up for all their time away with a bunch of new experiments. Can’t wait.”

“I don’t envy you at all.” There was a subtle glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“I wonder how the meetings went,” Armin mused, glancing back towards the officers’ table at the head of the room, which was even more sparsely populated than usual. “I doubt the MPs will be very keen on the idea of recruiting transfers for us, but hopefully they’ll at least be willing to help us out with supplies. Hi, Sasha. Welcome back.”

“Hey, guys,” Sasha greeted, having completed her “casual” integration into their space. Armin nudged his tray a little further away from her predatory gaze. “It’s been a while. I can’t believe they assigned me to Breach Guard right after an expedition… it’s so _boring_ just staring at the Wall all day. Plus the barracks there are so drafty. And I never knew it was possible for food to be so bland.” She grimaced. “The MPs should send us some of their fancy spices. Remember how it was after we reclaimed Maria? We got so many care packages from civilians,” she reminisced dreamily. “Sweet buns, cured meats, fresh fruits… I wish they’d send more of those. We’ve gotta keep morale up to win this war, after all!”

“That kind of excitement dies down after a while. Especially because we haven’t had any other significant victories since then,” Armin reasoned. “People were happy to get the land back, and it was a huge morale boost for humanity, so everyone hoped it meant we were close to winning for good. But we didn’t. We’ve just retaken the ground we lost ten years ago, and resources are still stretched pretty thin. People don’t have the leeway to keep sending us nice things when it seems like we’re just throwing ourselves uselessly against an unending wall of Titans. Especially when Shiganshina could break open again and easily undo all our progress at any time.” Whoops. He might have let a little too much cynicism slip into his voice.

Sasha’s shoulders sagged. “Gloomy much?”

“We do need to keep things in perspective,” Mikasa agreed with him.

Eren scowled. “If Shiganshina did break open, at least we’d be able to get _in_ again,” he muttered darkly, hand moving automatically to fiddle with the cord around his neck. “I want whatever they’re so afraid of us getting. It’s gotta be the key to finishing this.”

Armin brushed Eren’s elbow slightly with his own, hoping to divert his impending frustration. “Whatever it is, there’s nothing we can do for now except keep trying to clear out the Titans beyond the Wall.”

Easy as it was to say, it was a feat that seemed nigh impossible. No matter how many Titans the Survey Corps managed to kill, they just kept _coming_. In all the expeditions they’d made in the past two years since reclaiming Maria, they’d barely made any headway. For every Titan they managed to kill, there was a new one in its place by their next venture. Commander Erwin’s long-distance enemy scouting formation allowed them to travel a little farther with less trouble, but there was no way they’d ever have enough time to build any kind of secure outpost before being swarmed. And there were no geographic barriers near enough to reach on horseback without stopping, either – just plains and hills and trees. Hanji had seriously tried to push the idea of building outposts _in_ the trees, out of the Titans’ reach, but Central Command wasn’t too keen on spending taxpayer money on that. Maybe it was for the best – the thought of trying to sleep while Titans pawed at the tree trunks not a hundred feet below, staring vacantly up with their slack-jawed grins, made Armin shudder.

In the end, they were left almost back at square one, and now Armin could understand the dull, hopeless looks on the faces of the Survey Corps members he’d seen plodding through the streets as a child. He remembered charging forth from the gates his first expedition after Maria’s recapture, his first time _outside the Walls_. He remembered the elation that swelled up into his chest and made him feel like the wings on his back really could lift him out of his saddle and take him soaring high, high into the blue of the limitless sky, over the trees and the hills and past the unbroken horizon to every hidden corner of the world. He remembered looking over to find Eren galloping beside him, meeting his gaze, seeing the same fierce joy reflected in his blazing green eyes, in his wild grin. He remembered the _hope_ , bolstered by their recent victory, the sealing of Shiganshina nothing but a lurking disappointment in the back of his mind because they were so _close_ , they were going to _win_ , he could just _taste_ it in the fresh, free air that whipped through his lungs.

He remembered clutching tight to that dwindling feeling as they ventured out again and again. He remembered watching his comrades die, ripped to pieces or crushed underfoot or flung from their horses, die with a battle cry or with wails of horror as they faced the fact of their own mortality closing in around their skulls. Some of them were so young, had only just finished training, were brimming with hopes and dreams and confidence… but then, Armin remembered, it had only been five years ago that he had been like them. Five short years, but it felt like an eternity since he had been young. He remembered fighting for the same ground over and over, and he would glance at the distant rolling hills and the treetops swaying in the wind, and they felt so far away, so out of reach, and the wings on his back grew so heavy that some days he could barely stand beneath their weight. And Shiganshina, domed off and unbreachable, loomed larger in his mind, constant and unknowable, a powder keg that could erupt at any time and ruin in a moment everything they’d struggled tooth and nail to take back over the past ten years.

A knee gently bumping his own under the table – his uninjured one – pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up. “We’ll do it,” Eren insisted, eyes boring into Armin’s with fierce determination, as if he could convey the sentiment by staring hard enough. The way he said it, it wasn’t some halfhearted reassurance or hollow consolation – it was a statement, a declaration. It was a _promise_. That was how it always was with Eren. He threw his whole being into whatever he’d set his mind on, whether that was killing Titans, or helping Armin climb the tree by the river so he could see the view from the top when they were eight. He’d get it done if it killed him. That last part was what worried Armin, but when he sighed it was with a helpless fondness.

“We will,” he made himself agree, even though he maybe didn’t believe it quite as hard as Eren did anymore. He felt Mikasa’s eyes on him, but when he glanced over she was busy arranging her silverware neatly on the side of her tray.

“That’s more like it!” Sasha cheered, thumping him heartily on the back. “So, are you gonna finish those noodles or what?”

\--

He ended up giving her the remaining half a plate or so of his overcooked pasta. Eren and Mikasa both tried to protest, but mess was ending, and he wasn’t very hungry anyway. Besides, Sasha scarfed the food down so fast he couldn’t have changed his mind even if he wanted to. Eren frowned down at him as they joined the stream of soldiers filtering out of the building.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Are you still upset about this morning?”

Armin gave a noncommittal shrug, fixing his eyes on a point somewhere in the distance ahead. “You know how it is – these things can throw you off for a while. I’ll be fine, though.” He tried for a reassuring smile, but Eren looked troubled. Past the threshold, the crowd thinned as everyone began to disperse to their various afternoon chores. “I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” He started off towards the storehouse before he or Mikasa could push the issue.

It wasn’t this morning that was bothering him, per se – he could deal with a few bumps and bruises. He could even deal with the blow to his pride and the lapse in his sense of self-worth, and normally he’d have no problem confiding in his two closest friends about it. It was more that his earlier mishap had taken him down another notch or two in his steadily declining outlook on… most things, if he were perfectly honest. The endless routine of drills and chores and fruitless expeditions felt like trying to wade upstream in a violent waist-deep river. However much he struggled to move forward, the vicious current just pushed him back, little by little, his dream of the ocean an ever-fading speck far off at the river’s end. And he had only been doing this for two years – when he thought about how veterans like Erwin had endured since before the Fall of Maria, he felt the leaden weight of a quiet despair settle into the bottom of his lungs. He didn’t know how the others managed to stay so driven, but the last thing he wanted to do was drag them down. All they had left was their dreams, and Armin had no intention of saying anything that might interfere with their single-minded motivation or dull their spirits. Unfortunately, he had never been a good actor, and these were two people who knew him inside and out regardless of whether he said anything or not. He supposed he should be grateful for a minor physical incident on which to blame his sullen mood… although, with the looks he’d been getting today, he could probably expect an interrogation sometime in the near future.

He entered the storehouse and checked in with the overseeing officer, then picked up a set of damaged maneuver gear from the shelves and lugged it to a table in the adjoining workshop. He retrieved a toolbox from the wall before settling down on the bench and checking the note attached to the gear – propulsion issues, so there was probably something wrong with the fan. He began to unscrew the cover on the gear proper.

There had been a lot of damaged or malfunctioning gear after the expedition last week, and Armin, along with a handful of the other more technologically-savvy soldiers, had been tasked with repairing them. A big part of the problem was that the machines were old and worn from constant use – after a while they started failing more and more frequently, and there was a limit to how many times they could be patched back up before ultimately reaching the point where they were too rickety to safely use anymore. The Survey Corps had been badgering Central Command for new gear for ages, but they seemed unable to scrounge up enough money to spare for more than two or three sets every once in a while. The excuse was that their budget was focused on sending aid to the Maria Resettlement Campaign, but many Survey Corps members scornfully grumbled their suspicions that it was actually being used for fine wines and keeping certain officers out of legal trouble. The bad blood between the ragtag group of freedom fighters and the fat cats of the interior had not been tempered over time, despite Historia’s ascent to the throne. The young Queen certainly offered her help where she could, but lately she really was kept busy with the messy inner workings of royal politics, as well as with maintaining her orphanages and riding out to help with the Resettlement. There had also been muttered rumors of a coup floating around the less savory areas of the Walls. With her hands so full, there was only so much she could do when it came to micromanaging the military’s budgeting.

The maintenance work was tedious, but he didn’t mind it so much – he was good with technical things like this, and he enjoyed wrapping his brain around a problem until he worked through its knots to find the solution. It didn’t give him the same sense of satisfaction and accomplishment that it once would have, the little twinge of pride at having done something useful. But it was much preferable to being posted on lookout… or worse, Breach Guard. His mind wandered without something to do, and in the cramped isolation of Breach Guard’s quarters, there was nothing _to_ do but stare at the Wall, at the hard barrier sealing off the remains of the destroyed gate, at the smooth shallow dome stretching over the expanse of the former bait town. Nothing to think but to wonder if today would be the day, if the day would ever come, if anyone was even still alive and biding their time in there, or if it would remain a monument of failure, a creeping terror scarring the back of humanity’s mind forever.

Instead, he let himself get absorbed in the minute details of the gear’s inner workings, losing himself in the intricate craftsmanship as he fixed a faulty connector here, a compressor there. After a few long hours, though, he was beginning to regret giving away half his lunch, and he was glad when the last set of gear was gone from the shelf and they got to leave a little early. The other soldiers dispersed to do what they would for the last twenty minutes or so until dinner, and Armin wandered aimlessly between buildings. Mikasa was on lookout today and Eren was on cleaning duty in the main building, and there wasn’t really enough time to go to the archives, which was increasingly becoming his destination of choice during his free time.

He ended up meandering over to the grazing pasture beside the stables, which was set slightly apart from the main block of buildings. The horses were out while the stables were being mucked, and they dotted the enclosure, some in small clusters, others off on their own, heads bowed low to the earth as they browsed. They looked up at Armin as he braced his palms on the wooden fence, recognized him, and continued about their business – all but one, his own mare. Her ears flicked up, and she trotted leisurely over.

“Hi, Nova,” he murmured, reaching up to pat her dark muzzle as she nosed at his sleeves. The irregular smattering of white flecks radiating from the long diamond on her forehead had given the otherwise sleek black mare her name. “I didn’t bring you any treats, sorry. Maybe tomorrow.” He was on kitchen duty tomorrow, so he might be able to sneak a carrot or two out for her. She flicked her tail and snorted at him, bumping at his wrist once more before resuming her grazing. He gave a small smile. He wasn’t as naturally good with animals as Eren was (after the brunette had outgrown the over-exuberant grabbyness of his childhood years, that is), but Nova was very attuned to him, and he often found her friendly, silent presence a comfort.

He pushed himself up to sit on the fence, heels braced on the lower rung to keep him balanced. It was rare to be afforded solitude once in a day, let alone twice, and he took the moment to drink in the relative silence of the waning afternoon. The only sounds were the distant echo of voices from the other side of the block, the twittering of songbirds as they called each other home to their roosts, and Nova tearing up clumps of grass behind him. He stared out past the training field, beyond the rustling green clouds of the treetops, over Wall Maria, which loomed so large and close here, and up to the sky, whose clear blue was beginning to fade into a warm pink. What color was the horizon behind that towering shadow? He wondered wistfully. What would it be like to be able to walk however far he pleased, no obstruction to how far ahead he could see but trees or hills or the limitations of his own eyes? How would it feel to wake up not in a barrack surrounded by the snores and shuffles of dozens of other soldiers, but in his own cottage with maybe just one other person breathing peacefully beside him? To lie in bed until light shone through the window, to quietly step outside and walk pajama-clad and barefoot through sun-warmed sand? Or why not do away with walls altogether, sleep on a bedroll under the stars, trek through mysterious unknown forests and hidden valleys, take shelter under overhangs or thick-boughed trees when it rained? He stared at the sharp outline of the darkening Wall against the sky and felt heartsick that his chances of finding out grew thinner with each passing day.

His mind drifted, as it was lately wont to do, to the hazier memories of his childhood. He had been eight when his parents departed on their own venture, and he had been devastated that he wasn’t allowed to go with them. He had inherited his parents’ fervor for the world outside the Walls, and he wanted to go, he wanted to see, he wanted to take Eren along too and they could all see it together! But his mother had ruffled his hair and told him he was too little right now, and his very important job was to keep his grandpa company, but someday when he was older he could come out and join them, and they’d all go adventuring together. She had pressed a slightly teary kiss fiercely into his cheek as if to imprint it there, and his father scooped him up under the arms and gave him a little toss in the air and told him to be good. They waved the whole way down the street until they turned the corner and were lost from view, and Armin never saw them again. His grandfather, who disapproved of their departure to begin with, had never forgiven them.

Armin used to dream about his parents mapping out uncharted territories, discovering and befriending the strange yet wonderful creatures mentioned in their books – giant cats covered in spots to help them blend in with their leafy homes, or long-legged birds that couldn’t fly but could run faster than any horse. He dreamed that they built a little house with a roof of layered twigs nestled against a rock face beside a thin, clear waterfall, and they kept a little garden where they grew vegetables and daisies. Some nights he dreamed of them escaping from the Walls, burrowing underground or slipping through a secret hidden grate, pursued by shouting military shadows with lanterns. They hadn’t told him _how_ they were leaving – it was too secret and forbidden, they’d said – so it was up to his imagination. Sometimes they disguised themselves as soldiers and tricked the guards into letting them out the front gates, and other times they tied a long, long string of bedsheets together and slipped over the Wall in the dead of night, like cat burglars.

Other times, though, Armin dreamed that they were chased by Titans, hulking, furry monsters with long sharp fangs and eyes that glowed red in the dark. His parents would get captured and carted off to a dim, dripping lair littered with bones, and sit tied up in a corner while the creatures danced around a huge pot of water over a fire, unleashing guttural howls as they prepared to stew up the poor couple. Armin would wake sobbing from those dreams, and he couldn’t tell his grandpa because he couldn’t bear to see the old man look so _sad_ , so he would snuffle into his pillow until morning and then stumble off to find Eren. He would inevitably break down again upon recounting his nightmare, but it was okay then, because Eren would tug him close and clumsily pet his hair and tell him that one day the two of them would go out and find his parents. Then the boys could build their own little house right next door, and go visit every day if they wanted. Besides, Eren reasoned, if his mommy and daddy did get caught, at least one of them must have a survival knife, so they could just cut the ropes and kick the Titans in the shins. And since they were smart like Armin they could probably trick the monsters into falling into the pot, and then they’d have a feast to last for days, even though Titans probably tasted icky, he bet. If they added some of that salt that was supposed to be in the ocean it’d probably be okay, though.

Armin swung his legs and smiled humorlessly up at the sky as he remembered their innocent naiveté. Reason had told him many, many years ago that his parents were undoubtedly long dead. However they’d got out, it was impossible for them to have brought many supplies, and even if they’d somehow managed to acquire some rudimentary defense training, there was no way two civilians would have lasted long against the neverending sea of voracious Titans that awaited. He could understand his grandpa’s bitterness – it was basically suicide. The old man had not been terribly happy about his grandson clinging so passionately to the forbidden book that had started it all, and Armin could understand that, too.

Still, while Armin himself even now sometimes felt the stab of resentment like a dull knife twisting between his ribs, he couldn’t really blame his parents for leaving. He well knew how the allure of the outside world could seep into one’s bones and color one’s dreams, both sleeping and waking. It was a _promise_ , of freedom, of adventure, of hope and triumph and, most of all, of a future. So instead of dwelling on his abandonment, he wondered how far his parents had made it before they met their untimely end. Had they crossed the same expanse of grassy plain that he had crossed? Did they look to the horizon and see the same distant forest, the same rolling hills that he had seen? He hoped, at least, that they had been just as breathtaken, just as overwhelmed by wonder as he had been. He found himself daydreaming about them more often lately, daydreaming about following in their footsteps, abandoning everything and striking out into the unknown. He might have a better shot at seeing more that way. Eren and Mikasa would come with him, of course, and together they’d evade Titans, find sheltered places to sleep, and see the world…

…At least until their gas ran out, or they got stranded in a flatland, or got caught while trying to hunt or scavenge… Besides, Eren still wanted his revenge, and he’d never up and abandon humanity, especially not when he was such an important symbol of hope. It was a silly flight of fancy, but still it flitted through his mind, a momentary distraction before he conceded to grim reality. A few days’ bliss of freedom at the price of certain death, or years beating himself against the same routine until he died anyway, worn and broken. A clean cut or a festering wound…

The sudden clanging of the bell yanked him out of his contemplation, and he looked around in confusion. It shouldn’t be time for dinner yet – he couldn’t have been out here more than ten minutes or so. He grew aware of a distant clattering and twisted around to look behind him.

A small procession of riders preceded a rickety covered wagon that bounced unsteadily along the uneven dirt path connecting HQ to the main road. He furrowed his brow and peered closer, because when Command and a few select soldiers had gone to the interior last week, they definitely had not brought a wagon. But the almost comical size difference between the two leading figures was unmistakably that of Commander Erwin and Corporal Levi, and behind them by the wagon was… yep, nobody but Squad Leader Hanji would be gesturing so wildly. Did that mean negotiations had been successful? The addition of a wagon certainly accounted for their delayed return.

As he watched, the horse pulling the wagon suddenly bucked to the side and its burden tilted into the ditch with a loud clatter, two wheels spinning uselessly in the air. The procession halted and Hanji leapt off their horse to fling themself into the wagon. A few soldiers, who had emerged from the main building and the stables to greet them, were now running over to help. Armin pushed himself off the fence, gave Nova one last pat on her firm neck, and jogged gingerly around to see if there was anything he could do. It would be a welcome distraction.

“Hanji, get out of there! Your weight sure as hell won’t help get that thing back up,” Levi was barking as Armin approached, while Erwin and a few other soldiers heaved at the side of the wagon.

The Squad Leader popped out from behind the flaps and clambered out. “It’s okay! Everything’s in one piece, no damage!” They exclaimed breathlessly.

“Except to the cart, you mean,” the short man snapped. “How many times are you gonna spook the horses before you learn to keep your hands on the fucking reins?”

“Oh, come on, the wagon’s not ours, and we’re right by the stables anyway.”

Armin hesitated, not sure if he should interrupt, but Hanji spotted him and flung their arms in the air, nearly nailing Levi in the face but for his pinpoint reflexes. “Arlert! Just the man I wanted to see!” They rushed over, happily oblivious to the daggers flashing in the Corporal’s eyes.

He snapped to attention. “Welcome back, Squad Leader! Corporal! I’m here to offer my assistance!” He greeted as his superior clapped him heartily on the back.

“Oh, at ease, at ease. The others can handle it,” they reassured, and sure enough, the wagon tilted with a heavy _thunk_ back onto the path with a collective grunt from its pushers. Armin suddenly found a long arm slung around his neck as Hanji leaned in conspiratorially and continued. “But come help me unload in the barn. There’s something you need to see!”

“Yes, Squad Leader!”

He greeted Erwin with a salute, and joined the small procession with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Hanji’s brilliance could be pretty hit-and-miss, and lately their tinkering had been increasingly far-fetched. Once they had devoted almost a whole week to dissecting old wasp nests, searching for some key to an idea only they could understand, until Levi had forcibly ended the project by taking all the papery orbs outside and burning them before scrubbing the lab top to bottom. Hanji had sulked until some of the newer Privates coaxed them into enjoying the impromptu bonfire night. Levi had a way of intuiting which of Hanji’s experiments were worth pursuing, and which ones needed to be burned in the yard. Armin wondered which category this one fell under. He glanced back at the Corporal, who walked beside the Commander, and thought he saw him cast a strange look in their direction, but otherwise his permanent scowl was stony as always.

Reaching the stables, the others began to unsaddle their horses. Hanji turned theirs over to today’s stable hand, and between the Squad Leader, Armin, and another soldier who’d come out to help, they got the wagon backed into the old adjoining barn with only slight difficulty. The other soldier freed the unhappy horse from his burden and led him out to join his fellows for a rub-down. Hanji told Armin to “stay here a sec” and jumped back into the creaking wagon, and he breathed in the dry scent of hay. The shafts of light that streamed through the high windows bathed the dirt floor and stacks of hay bales and feed bags in a warm golden color, and it briefly occurred to him that he was probably going to be late to mess again.

“Did negotiations go well?” He asked politely, hoping to distract himself from his empty stomach with conversation.

He couldn’t see in because of the canvas flaps that shielded the entry, but he heard the wagon’s wood floor groaning ominously as Hanji hopped and shuffled around, and pushed something large around inside. There was a muffled snort. “Our benevolent and upstanding comrades in the interior saw fit to grace us with a whole two new sets of gear,” they replied sardonically. “Otherwise, it went about as well as I’m sure you expected. They’re about as interested in helping us as they are in picking fleas off of street urchins. Although,” a note of furtive glee reentered their voice, “I did get them to hand over this beauty – here, help me lift her out.”

Armin approached and pushed the canvas flaps aside to find himself looking up at… a huge woven basket? He raised his arms to support the bottom as Hanji hefted it over the edge and staggered as he adjusted to the unexpected weight, pain shooting through his knee at the sudden pressure – what was in this thing? Together they got the cumbersome object out of the wagon, awkwardly shuffling it out from between the shafts. He didn’t know why they hadn’t just unloaded it from the back where there were no such obstructions.

“Ta-dah!” Hanji exclaimed, with the wide sweeping gesture of a street performer. “Look at her! Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Armin looked as he caught his breath, leaning heavily on his undamaged leg. The thing was massive, reaching up to his chest in height and big enough around for four or five people to stand in. He peered over the edge. The square wicker frame had a thin cloth lining on the inside, and a huge, heavy-looking sheet was stuffed into the basket, packed down and taking up most of the space. He could see bits of cable and part of what looked like a metal cylinder protruding from the plain brown folds.

It was… something, but he wasn’t sure about gorgeous. “What is it?” He asked, furrowing his brow at it as if doing so would make the thing’s purpose clear. Some kind of new and improved storage method? A model for a new Titan trap?

“What is it? _What is it?!”_ Hanji deflated, then perked back up again. “Well, I can’t blame you. I couldn’t have guessed either, if I hadn’t read about it first,” they conceded. “This, my friend, is a _balloon._ ”

“A balloon…?” His mind jumped to an image of the small flickering paper orbs that children would send floating over lakes during festivals. What did those have to do with…?

_“How come this thing can fly, anyway? It doesn’t even have any wings!”_

The indignant voice suddenly echoed in his ears as if its owner were standing right next to him rather than fourteen years away.

 _“Well, hot air rises over cold air,”_ his own matter-of-fact voice responded, and suddenly he was six years old in Shiganshina again, helping Eren refasten the candle to his balloon amidst the busy clamoring press of summer heat and adult legs and shrieking children. _“This wire that holds the candle, it goes through this hole all the way into the paper to keep it a sphere. When you put the candle under the hole, the paper makes a trap so the air can’t get out. But the air is still rising, and the paper is so light that it lifts the whole thing up! My mommy told me about it.”_

His gaze flew again over the basket, the fabric, the cables, the metal cylinder, each piece clicking into place, and his wide eyes met Hanji’s triumphant grin.

“A balloon. And _you_ are going to help us utilize it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good job getting through such a long, winding chapter! Things are finally going to start moving. This fic is as much about internal processing as it is about external happenings, so thanks for bearing with me. I hope you're enjoying it anyway!
> 
> So far I've been doing pretty well with keeping on top of writing for my every-other-week update schedule, but I just got a job (holy shit) so I'm probably going to get pretty busy soon. I'm still going to try my best to keep up with it though - I'm really enjoying writing this!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More contemplation happens, but Eren throws a wrench into some of Armin's doubts.

Word traveled fast in such a small community, and the mess hall had been abuzz with news of Command’s return and Hanji’s new toy. Nobody knew any specifics other than that it was supposedly some sort of flying device, and since Command was absent from the mess hall tonight, that left Armin as the only accessible person who’d actually seen it. He had found himself surrounded by curious soldiers pressing for details while Eren bristled beside him.

“We won’t know how well it works until we can test it, but it seems to operate on basic principles of thermal lift,” he had explained for the umpteenth time. “Yes, just like the little festival balloons. Theoretically it should be adaptable to larger weight loads…” Despite the fact that he’d arrived late once again, mess had seemed to drag on forever, and Eren and Mikasa had to shoo away the crowd before he could get a moment’s reprieve to actually eat.

Now he sat on his bed, still in his button-down and uniform pants, back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. He stared absently at the corner where the opposite wall met the ceiling, tracing the wood grain with his eyes. The image of the strange contraption filled his mind and left a funny sense of displacement in his stomach. Some of the other soldiers had been excited to hear about it, others skeptical. Logically, he could see how the thing was supposed to work, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be too enthusiastic about it.

The mattress dipped and he looked over to see Eren sliding in beside him, as naturally as if he slept here and not in his own room in the main building.

“I’m surprised to find you here and not holed up in the archives or something. How’s the leg doing?”

“Alright,” Armin replied as the darker boy mirrored his position. “Much better than this morning.”

“Good.”

The inch of space between them was little enough that Armin could feel the warmth that radiated from the other body. He had tried to hole up in the archives, actually – but tonight, for whatever reason, he just couldn’t focus. He usually fell into them so easily, but the words in the old records had slipped through his mind and out of his grasp before he could even finish a sentence.

A brief moment of silence passed between them. Eren shifted, and Armin felt the familiar weight of his gaze.

“Read to me?”

He glanced over with a touch of amusement at the question that was more expectation than request. “What’s this all of a sudden?”

Eren stared boldly back. “Do I need a reason?”

“I suppose not.” He considered for a moment before leaning away to pull open the top drawer of the regulation nightstand where he kept his personal effects... which were mostly books. Maybe the act of voicing the words aloud would keep him focused, and if not, at least Eren would get some enjoyment from it. “What do you want to hear?” Despite the limited amount of space, he had accumulated more than a few books over the years. He’d occasionally treat himself to a new one on a trip into town, and Eren and Mikasa had gifted him a couple as well. He had a history text that was unfortunately mostly concerned with political scandals, a book of war strategies that Commander Erwin had given him, a few scientific books, a novel or two, a compilation of old fairy tales that Eren had always been partial to…

“The outside world,” came Eren’s voice from behind him, and his hand faltered over the smooth paper covers stacked neatly in the drawer. It had been a long time since he’d touched that one. He thought he remembered taking it out two or three times during their training years, but there had been little time for any leisure activity in the chaotic year that had followed the Battle of Trost. And lately, the thought of the book and its incredible contents filled him more with a weary longing than with the swelling hope and determination it once had.

“Something wrong?” Eren asked, noticing the minute hesitation.

“…No,” Armin replied, shaking his head and reaching to the back of the drawer, groping for the familiar feel of the large, leather-bound cover tucked away there. He navigated it carefully from its place and straightened back up, gazing down at the untitled tome on his lap. It was thinner than he remembered it, he thought as he smoothed his palm over the worn surface. It was still substantially bigger than any of his other books, but… as a child it had seemed massive, like the whole world really could be contained within its pages. He thumbed open the cover and flipped through the first few worn pages, each faded stain a memory.

“This was from the time I knocked it in the mud, wasn’t it?” Eren interjected, jabbing a finger at a brown blotch that seeped through several layers of aged paper. “And this one… I think I spilled your tea. You were always so careful with your books and I always fucked them up.” He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Sorry about that.”

Armin shook his head, unable to suppress the upward quirk at the corners of his mouth. He remembered all too well. “You never meant to. You were just… a little overzealous.”

“That’s a nice way to put it. I’d go with ‘lumbering terror.’”

He snorted lightly, giving Eren a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. “You were not.”

“I was so. Remember Mrs. Grimsby’s cat?”

“I… prefer not to.”

“See? Maria, it took _hours_ to get him down from that tree, and we got caught in the end anyway. Mom was so mad, she had me doing dishes for like a month…” His smile faded and his eyes got the glassy, faraway look they always did when conversation took that turn. Armin could do nothing but lean into his warmth, let his shoulder brush Eren’s, a silent signal of his presence.

But he shook himself out of it, smile stretched a little thinner than before. “Anyway. Let’s read, yeah?”

“Which chapter?” Armin asked, though he already knew the answer.

“The ocean.”

Obediently he flipped through the book, fingers remembering just how far to turn, and the pages fell open naturally as if the binding remembered, too. Eren shifted closer to listen as Armin’s lips formed the words almost automatically, he’d said them so many times before. The old familiar images sprung up in his mind’s eye – a field of smooth sand, framed by a line of tall stiff grasses on one side and leading down to the vast, unbroken expanse of cool water on the other. The pale shore littered with shells and strings of kelp the tide had dragged in, relics of a mysterious sunken world. The waves would be bigger, rougher, colder than those of any lake, and taste of the salt that filled them. And deep within lurked creatures no human had seen in more than a century, vague shadowy shapes of strange animals that were more tentacle than body, of sea mammals bigger than buildings, of turtles older than even the Walls, of creatures of the deepest fathoms that had dwelt so long in darkness you could see right through to their pulsing organs. Armin’s heart twisted painfully in his chest with how much he wanted to see it all for himself, to look over and see Eren at his side, and Mikasa beyond him, framed by an open sky.

He kept his voice low so as not to disturb the other soldiers that had chosen to spend their night milling about the barracks, some chatting, others playing cards. They gave no more than a passing glance to the two young men nestled together. They were all used to it by now, so nobody ever bothered to comment anymore, except sometimes Jean – he and Eren still loved to antagonize each other even now, but everyone knew it was more about comfort in routine than real animosity.

As he read, the light press of Eren’s shoulder grew heavier until his warm, familiar weight was settled fully against his side. It was a childhood habit that had never left him. Armin could imagine the look of quiet focus that would be on his face as he followed intently along with the text. Or maybe his eyes would be closed as he let Armin’s voice carry him to distant shores and a gentle breeze.

The blonde drank in their closeness despite the insistent twist of guilt in his gut. Eren was everything to him, and he counted himself lucky that so little had changed between them even after so many years. But no matter how many times he told himself that it should be enough, a part of him still wished there could be… well, more. He had long since given up his futile attempts to stamp those feelings out, resigning himself to the bittersweet mix of elation and heartache whenever Eren took his hand or leaned in against him. He knew that even those things were well outside the range of what was considered normal and that he shouldn’t take it for granted, that this level of closeness was more than he ever could’ve hoped for if he were someone else. If he wanted to, he could pretend for a moment that the catch of their fingers, or the brush of a warm palm against the small of his back, or the chaste press of lips against his hair, were meant as more than what they’d meant since they’d established their lack of boundaries at age five.

The worst part was that sometimes he _did_ catch himself pretending and he’d plummet back to earth, kicking himself for it. It was selfish of him and it should be enough, it should be enough that Eren was still so comfortable with him, even after all the snide comments back in their training years, after even some physical confrontations with other soldiers, after all the awkward moments of puberty… and after the night of Maria’s reclamation, which Eren was good enough not to hold against him. It should be enough, it should be _more_ than enough… and it would have to be, ultimately, because Eren was his best friend and their relationship was not something Armin ever wanted to risk. He remembered the abject terror of thinking he might lose it, the overwhelming shame and humiliation at his own weakness – it was like standing on the brink of the Wall and looking out to see no world beyond but void, a blank swirling emptiness that forced its way past his teeth and sucked the air from his lungs and from the gaps between his bones until he thought his body would cave in on itself and crumble out of existence. He never wanted to feel that way again.

“It’s been too long,” Eren murmured against his hair, and he realized that at some point they’d finished the chapter. “I’ve missed reading with you. When was the last time we did this?”

Armin searched through his memory. “I think… sometime before Maria. Yeah, it was the day off the week before the mission.”

“Oh, right. Commander Erwin gave you that strategy book.”

“You fell asleep on that one, if I recall.”

He felt Eren’s shoulders roll up in a loose shrug and could hear the cheeky grin in his reply. “Too many big words in too many big sentences.”

“This one has plenty of big words and big sentences, too,” Armin pointed out.

“Yeah, but… that’s different.”

He rolled his eyes and affected a put-upon sigh through his fond smile. “You certainly know how to make your case.”

“You bet.” Eren righted himself, the night air cool in the sudden absence of his touch. Instead, he leaned forward so he could meet Armin’s eyes. “It’s nice to see you smiling for real. Are you doing okay?”

“Like I said, my knee is pretty much fine now, and–”

“Not that,” he interrupted, his gaze searching. “I mean lately. You’ve seemed kind of down for a while.”

“I…” Armin let his eyes fall to a spot beyond Eren’s jaw as he considered what to say. He chose his words carefully, not lying but brushing it off. “Well, you know how it can be, with routine and all. Sometimes it puts you in a bit of a rut.”

“I know how it can be, but is that how it _is?”_ The taller boy pressed, frowning. “Don’t talk to me about hypotheticals, Armin. I’m asking about _you_.”

Damn him and his bluntness. Armin had expected this interrogation sooner or later and had resolved not to cave, but now, trapped by a piercing gaze and the knowledge that any attempt at a lie would be seen through immediately, he could feel that resolve cracking.

“Yes,” he insisted. “That’s how it is. It’s… hard to stay in good spirits when it feels like you’re getting nowhere.” That was the gist of the matter, but he was still determined not to let on how deep it really went. Hopefully it was enough to appease Eren – there was no point in worrying him over something that couldn’t be fixed, or worse, bringing his spirits down too.

Eren looked at him for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh through his nose, and slumping back against the wall.

“I know,” he muttered, studying his knees. “It’s frustrating. I feel it too. I keep thinking, if we just had Shiganshina… if we just could’ve gotten to the basement, maybe it would all be over by now.” His fingers curled into fists where they lay across his lap and his voice darkened. “We were so fucking close, we would’ve done it if those bastards hadn’t gone and sealed it off… and now we can’t even get in.” He scowled, then shook his head.

“But, Armin,” he continued, reaching over to cover the blonde’s hand with his own, gentle but firm. “We _have_ to keep fighting. It doesn’t matter if we have Shiganshina or not – they’ve gotta run out of Titans sooner or later. We’ll keep fighting and fighting, and eventually we’ll _win._ I know we will.” His eyes blazed holes into Armin’s, determined, but mixed with something that looked like pleading. “We have our dream, remember? We’re gonna see the ocean together. Don’t forget about that.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Armin replied softly, trying to reassure him with a smile.

“But it’s not enough?”

His smile faltered. “That’s not… Eren, no, it’s…” Green eyes bored into him, searching, as if to lay bare his soul. He felt like they could. “It’s… I want it more than anything, I really do.” His hand twisted beneath Eren’s, grasping clumsily at the calloused fingers as if he could convey his sincerity through the touch. “I just… I don’t know if we _can,_ if _humanity_ can.” The words spilled frantically from his mouth, restraint forgotten. “It’s not about whether it’s enough, of course it is, it’s all I want, it’s about whether it’s even possible, whether we’ll even live to see it...”

“We _will,_ ” Eren repeated, his hand tight around Armin’s. “We have to. They can’t last forever.”

“Neither can we. It’s a war of attrition at this point. And we have no idea how many of them there are, if there’s even an end to them. We have no more Walls to retake and no way of gaining a foothold in their territory…”

“But we will, won’t we?” Eren cut him off. “The reason we haven’t been able to really attack is because we can’t move on the ground without taking damage. But this new balloon thing will let us go through the air, right?”

“…That’s the idea,” Armin admitted.

“So? Won’t that help?”

“If it really works.”

“Why shouldn’t it?”

He chewed at his lower lip. “Because we don’t even know for sure if it can be adapted to such a large scale.” The words felt wrong even as he said them, but he pushed on. “Because we might not have the technology for sustained flight, or materials that will hold up...”

“Those sound like excuses to me. It’s really because you’re afraid it’ll let you down, right?”

He stared back up at him for a moment before his shoulders slumped. “You’re right,” he realized. In one stroke, Eren had put his finger on something that hadn’t even been fully clear to Armin. But it made sense, and his odd feeling of displacement suddenly clicked into place. “You’re right. I… I want to think it’s already a flawed idea, so I don’t have to get my hopes up. If I let myself believe in it… it’ll just be all the worse when it fails and we’re back at square one.”

Eren opened his mouth, then closed it again. He frowned. “Listen,” he said gently, the pad of his thumb tracing the bony ridges of Armin’s knuckles. “I don’t think any of the stuff you said are going to be problems. Know why? Because _you’re_ going to be working on them. You could figure out any old scale problem, or whatever else. You’re good at that.” He spoke with the simple certainty of one who had no question of the truth of his words. “So tell me what will happen when it works.”

Armin couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and dropped his eyes to the other boy’s shoulder, trying in vain to suppress the heat he could feel rising to his cheeks. It always overwhelmed him to come face to face with Eren’s faith in him like this. “If it works… we would have air mobility, so we could keep an eye on expeditions from above, and refine our warning systems. We could scout farther ahead, start mapping out the terrain. We might be able to find places with natural geographic barriers that could keep out or at least hinder Titans, so maybe we could actually start building outposts… though we’d probably need to find another way to carry large amounts of supplies.”

“That all sounds pretty good to me.” Eren ducked his head a little to meet Armin’s eyes again. “I know it’s been a long time. But this could be the breakthrough we need, and if anyone can make it work, I know it’s you.” He gave a small smile, tired but sincere. “We’ll make it.”

Armin opened his mouth to respond, but the sudden clanging of the bell signaling lights out cut him off. Soldiers began to filter noisily in through the door. Eren untangled their hands and shifted away, and he missed his warmth immediately. Almost unthinkingly, Armin caught his friend’s hand again before he could slip off the bed, clasping it in a wordless expression of gratitude. Eren’s eyes were soft as he looked back, squeezing his slim fingers in answer.

Jean passed by and made his customary gagging sound, to which Eren responded with his customary rude gesture. Their usual bickering faded into the background of Armin’s thoughts as he moved to change for bed. Eren was right – he was too caught up in his own head. He really shouldn’t convince himself of failure so soon just because of his own fears. There was really no reason a balloon _couldn’t_ be adjusted to human weight, as long as it was big enough, and they could probably find ways to work around material problems. And just imagine what it would feel like to soar over the Wall, far above the reach of Titans, distant trees swaying like weeds while humans crawled like ants upon the ground…

He shook himself out of it as the lamps were doused, and he climbed into bed, tugging the sheet up to his shoulder. There were plenty of other unforeseen things that could go wrong, and there was always the question of efficiency, whether the effort and expenditure would be at all worth the output. He couldn’t get carried away in daydreams and let his hopes get up too far. There were still no guarantees that they wouldn’t come crashing down around him.

Still, he fell asleep feeling better than he had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the plot is here but another thinking chapter happened... sorry. Stuff will start physically moving in the next one haha. I hope the characterization was okay here. Thanks for reading!


	5. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanji and Armin delve into work on the balloon. Armin still has some misgivings. A wild Levi appears and acts a little odd.

Armin arrived at Hanji’s lab first thing after breakfast, as instructed, to find that they had already laid out all the balloon’s parts in the field behind the small building. Hanji was pacing around it – crouching here, hopping there, constantly moving even as they scribbled furiously in a notepad. He expected them to be fully absorbed, but their head snapped up as he approached.

“Good morning!” They cried with a grin, and before he could even open his mouth to return the greeting, they were plowing on ahead. “I couldn’t wait to get started, so I set up a little early. I’ve been diagramming out all the parts!” They thrust the notepad out for Armin to see and he caught a glimpse of a series of rough sketches, every inch of spare space crammed with a messy scrawl, crisscrossed here and there by arrows and afterthoughts. Before he could really look at it, though, Hanji was already bounding away.

“So, here’s what we’ve got,” they said, coming to an abrupt halt next to the basket. Armin followed them over, still somewhat awestruck at how cheerful and energetic they could be so early in the morning. “This, obviously, is where the passengers go. It’s made of wicker, as I’m sure you already noticed, so it’s light but sturdy. There’s a light cloth lining, and the floor is reinforced with what seems to be a thin sheet of wood. The rest of it is fairly flexible, though.” They leaned on the rim of the basket to demonstrate the way it dipped slightly under their weight.

“Then you have this big hunk of metal,” they continued, propelling away and stopping in front of the item in question on the ground. “I’m sure you can guess what it’s for?”

He crouched down in the dewy grass to look more closely. His bruised knee complained a bit, but he ignored it. The rusting metal making up the device’s various parts was mismatched, cobbled together from found materials. It seemed to be a tank with a kind of cylindrical outlet jutting from of the top, with a valve protruding from the cylinder’s side. The whole thing was rigged up inside a square frame made up of solid piping.

“The heat source,” he answered. “This looks like a rudimentary gas burner. The valve would control the gas flow, and here’s a cap for refilling… did you find any hoses or spare tanks with it?”

“Boy, you catch on quick!” Hanji beamed with pride. “Hoses are there,” they said, kicking their heel in the general direction of a coiled heap a few feet away. “According to the records, there were spare tanks on board when it was… acquired. But they were full of gas, so needless to say, the MPs took those.”

Armin nodded. That made sense. “And this frame must be for suspending it between the basket and the… the heat canopy.”

“Exactly right! I found these cool collapsible poles buried in there, to hold it up. Without them you’d have the thing crashing down on your head when you landed. Not fun.” They grabbed one of said poles from beside the hose heap and demonstrated how the nested segments slid out and locked into place. “All this innovation is just incredible,” They gushed, crouching down beside Armin and running their fingers reverently along one edge of the tank. “You can tell by the way this is welded that it’s homemade, but it’s damn impressive for amateur work. This would’ve held up well in flight. The inventors must’ve been brilliant, to have done all this themselves.” They cast Armin a sidelong glance, an odd note in the tone of their voice. Before he could identify it, though, they sprang back up.

“Well, I suppose the poles are a little bit fragile, would run the risk of snapping on a rough landing, but sometimes you just gotta work with what you got! And these sure are more transportable at least,” they babbled. “Anyway, next up we’ve got the… what did you call it, the canopy? I like that.”

Armin stood and followed them the few short steps to stand before it. Spread out on the ground like this, it was easily the most eye-catching part of the ensemble – it was massive, easily big enough for Eren’s Titan form to lie down on comfortably. It was wide and round, tapering slightly towards the opening at the bottom.

“The mouth there has a wire reinforcement, to hold the shape. The whole thing is made of linen, but if you touch it you’ll notice that there’s some kind of coating on it. I’m guessing it’s some treatment to make the fabric more heat-resistant,” Hanji said. “We’ll have to figure out what they used, and test how well it works. Going up in flames hundreds of meters in the air is not the way I want to kick it.”

“An alum solution, maybe? Like the kind used for house curtains.”

“Could be. There’s one other big thing of note, if you’ll come up to the top here.”

He followed the scientist on a trek around the cloth’s perimeter. The plain fabric was wrinkled from being stuffed into the basket, and on closer inspection he could see that it was made from multiple long panels sewn together. When they reached the top, the panels met around a large, circular segment of cloth.

“This circle opens, and there are a bunch of strings inside,” Hanji informed him, crouching down and pushing the limp folds of fabric aside. Sure enough, he could see a tangle of thin cables that looked like they met at a single point a short way down.

He chewed at his lip as his brain clicked through the information. “If this opens at the top, it could be for temperature regulation… to control the altitude of the balloon. If you had another really long cable…” his eyes flitted around, coming to rest on a thin shape stretched out in the grass alongside the cloth. “Like that one laid out over there, and let it hang down to the basket from the inside, you could pull it open to let out heat when you need to descend.”

Hanji grinned widely at him. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Well, Hanji, this is certainly one of your _biggest_ experiments to date,” a deep voice called behind them, and they both turned to see Commander Erwin standing by the basket, surveying the layout with interest.

“Erwin!” The Squad Leader greeted cheerfully. “Just look at her! Isn’t she gorgeous?” They hopped over to him, Armin trailing after. Erwin acknowledged him with a nod.

“I admit, I’m impressed. It looks much more promising now than when it was all packed up. What have you found out?”

Armin listened quietly and scanned the scattered balloon parts as Hanji enthusiastically repeated what they had just gone over together. Seeing the device here, as a concrete object rather than some vague abstraction, made it seem... plausible, actually. If they could test out all the kinks, it might even work. Still…

“...So,” Hanji concluded. “What do you think?”

“That’s incredible. What a shame we couldn't get ahold of this sooner,” Erwin replied. His enigmatic gaze turned. “How about you, Armin? You were hand-picked to help on this project – what are your thoughts about its prospects?”

Armin lowered his gaze. “Well... We’ll have to make sure all the calculations are sound before we can even start trying to fly it – make sure the canopy is big enough to support human weight along with equipment and supplies and the balloon itself, make sure the materials won’t catch fire… There also doesn’t seem to be a way to physically steer. We’d be at the mercy of the wind direction, not to mention the weather. There are a lot of variables.”

“Right you are,” Hanji agreed. “That’s why we’re going to start by making some smaller prototypes. For now, let’s just focus on making sure we can get off the ground. Preferably without burning to death.” They made to start off, but Erwin stopped them.

“Hanji. I shouldn’t need to remind you of this, but there’s no room in our budget for extraneous purchases.”

The Squad Leader looked crushed. “What? You don’t think this is worth investing in? But this could be our _breakthrough_ —”

“I never said that. If you can give me a report detailing your reasons to believe this project will be a success, I’ll send it to Central Command immediately with a proposal for a research grant. But you know how they are as well as I do – even if they decide to loosen their purse strings for us, it’ll take them a while to argue about it.” He gave a thin smile. “Until then, we can’t afford it.”

Hanji gave a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I was going to use my personal stash for this anyways.”

“Don’t go too overboard. I’d like to be able to reimburse you if we get the money.”

“No worries. Armin will keep me in line this time.” Hanji grinned down at him, and gestured. “Come on, let’s put this away so we can go get our supplies.”

Armin made to follow, but a big hand came down on his shoulder. “You have your work cut out for you,” Erwin said somberly. “Good luck.”

\--

The two of them took the battered old wagon from the barn and made the short trip to Solfeld. There they bought out most of the confused tailor’s linen and thread supply, a good deal of the chemist’s wares, and a small assortment of woven baskets in varying sizes from an old man peddling them on the roadside. They spent the rest of the morning in the lab sketching out diagrams and measurements and formulas, and testing small scraps of fabric treated with different chemical compounds, holding them over a candle flame to ascertain their heat resistance. There were a couple of small incidents, but nobody burned the lab down – and despite their self-proclaimed aversion to death by fire, the close calls only seemed to ratchet Hanji’s excitement up more. Armin glanced around the cramped, cluttered space littered with papers and sundry, and thought that maybe they should do the fire-testing outside next time.

By the time the bell for afternoon mess rang, they had prepared a small assortment of chemical solutions that sat arranged in carefully labeled bins atop two desks shoved together, which served as the main workspace. “You can go for the day,” Hanji told him distractedly as they heaved an unrolling mass of linen onto their lap and grabbed a nearby pair of scissors. “I’ll treat the fabric for the prototypes. We’ll have to wait for them to dry before we can do anything with them anyway, so you can tend to your normal assigned chores this afternoon.”

“Are you sure you won’t need any help?”

They waved him off. “Nah, not for this part. Tomorrow we’ll start putting them together. If we’re lucky and can work fast enough, maybe we can launch them in the afternoon!” Their eyes sparkled behind their spectacles.

Armin saluted and removed his own safety goggles that Hanji had dug up from somewhere, setting them on an oddly-placed nightstand by the door on his way out. He brushed his bangs away from his slightly sweaty forehead as he made the walk back across the field and through the square to the mess hall. His mind rewound the events of the morning, carefully reviewing parts and diagrams and tentative plans, picking through them for errors or miscalculations. His legs carried him automatically to his destination, and he barely noticed the intrigued glances of his peers.

Lunch was another barrage of questions from his eager fellow soldiers, but this time he had more solid ground on which to base his answers. Still, as inquisitive as everyone was, very few of them seemed to have an attention span for the finer points of manufacturing flame-resistant fabric via chemical compounds. Mikasa listened with quiet interest, Eren with his usual rapt attentiveness despite all the technical explanations that went over his head, and most of the others looked confused or went glassy-eyed and started fiddling with their sleeves.

“So do you think it’ll really work?” Connie asked finally, scratching at the thin stubble coating his scalp.

Armin hesitated. He felt Eren’s eyes on him. “It’s still too early to say.”

The question lingered in his thoughts even as he tended to his chores. He stood skinning potatoes over the scrap bin with practiced, mechanical motions, but the image of the balloon spread out on the grass filled his vision. Did he think it would really work? Maybe. It actually seemed plausible – it worked for candles, so theoretically if they multiplied the scale it should be able to work for humans, too. But then, there were so many more factors to consider when there were living passengers. You’d need a constant source of fuel, you’d need ways to control the balloon’s direction and landing, you’d need safety measures... Until they figured all those things out and made sure their physics were perfect, he couldn’t in good conscience tell people that it would work. There was no reason to get everyone excited when it could all come to nothing.

So when the other soldiers on kitchen duty sidled over to ask him about the balloon, he answered their questions about the dry facts of the technical work, and remained ambiguous on their inevitable prodding about the likelihood of its success. He didn’t really mind their curiosity, but he was glad all the same when the day wound down and he was able to slip out the back door, away from the attention. With just a few short minutes until the dinner bell, he made his way over to the grazing pasture, giving a soft whistle when he reached the fence. Nova trotted over, snorting in greeting, and he smiled as her nose went straight to his sleeve for the treat she smelled there.

“Okay, okay,” he said, extracting the promised pilfered carrot and holding it out for her to take. Her warm, bristly lips brushed his skin as she took it eagerly, but she was careful not to catch his fingers with her strong teeth. He stroked her nose as she munched contentedly, her tail flicking at her flank every now and then. The silence was nice after the bustle of the day, and Nova’s enthusiastic but unquestioning company helped calm the nervous buzz of activity in his brain. He took a deep breath, allowing some of the tension to ease from his shoulders.

“Arlert!” The bark shattered his peace and he jolted violently, whipping around to see Levi leaning out the back door of the main administration building a short distance away. He snapped to attention. So much for a moment to relax.

“Yes, Corporal!”

Levi was squinting at him. Armin wondered if he was going to be charged with the hefty accusations of unauthorized ration use and spoiling the war mounts. He’d been excused from morning drills to work with Hanji, so he had energy to spare, but he really didn’t want to spend his evening running laps. Sasha’s repeat offences had ensured strict punishment for all where food was concerned.

Levi looked at him for a long moment, as if debating the same thing. “Get over here,” he finally said. “If you’re so free, I have a job for you.”

“Yes, sir!” Armin gave a little sigh of relief and headed over, trying to surreptitiously check his uniform as he walked. He was off one hook, but you never knew with Levi. He might end up doing laps anyway if it turned out he’d gotten a chemical stain on his shirt somewhere. But when he reached the door, the short man just shoved a bundle of mops and brooms into his arms.

“Help me take these back to the tool shed.”

“Yes, sir!” He shifted the long handles awkwardly, trying to maneuver them into a position easier to carry where they wouldn’t slide around. Levi, meanwhile, gathered up two tall stacks of tin buckets.

“Morons can’t clean properly if I’m not around to babysit,” he muttered foully. He seemed to be talking to himself, so Armin held his tongue as they lugged their unwieldy loads to the tool sheds behind one of the watchtowers. The Corporal’s standards for cleanliness were so high they were practically on another plane. He really must’ve gone all-out upon his return, if he’d needed all the spare supplies from the tool shed.

“I see you’ve kept Four-Eyes from burning down the lab today,” Levi remarked as they trudged across the grass. Armin glanced over in surprise. The Corporal was known for many things, but small talk was not one of them. “Make sure you keep that airhead on task.”

“Of course, sir,” Armin replied. He had a feeling he knew where this was headed. Sure enough, he felt the other man’s harsh stare a moment later.

“How do things look?”

He didn’t have to ask what he meant. “It’s still impossible to say whether things will work the way we want them to. We’ve ascertained and recorded the basic function of all included parts, and have begun preparing for the construction of small-scale prototypes.”

“Sounds like you’ve been rattling that off all day.” There was a hint of dry amusement in his voice. They stopped before the rickety wooden tool sheds and he balanced one of the bucket stacks perfectly on his knee while he pulled the key from his breast pocket. The door unlocked with a heavy clunk and creaked open, and they set the cleaning supplies inside the tiny room amidst the small array of rakes, shovels, and various other equipment.

“It’s almost funny when you think about it. Weaponizing a child’s toy,” Levi commented darkly as he shut the door behind them and grabbed the padlock. “I’ve never heard anything like it. Have you?” He gave Armin a sidelong stare as he turned the key.

“Of course not, sir. This is an unprecedented use of that technology.” He was almost as bemused by the Corporal’s talkativeness as he was by the question. Though he had been wondering… “If you don’t mind me asking… the Squad Leader indicated that the balloon was found in Military Police contraband. Was there any record of who originally built it?” Knowing how the Military Police dealt with these things, it was certainly too much to hope that they were still alive, but Armin was curious. He was impressed that someone presumably unaffiliated with any military branch had put so much time and effort into designing and building the balloon, and he wondered why they had kept such an ingenious invention to themselves. If it had been presented to the Survey Corps however many years ago when it was first built…

Levi looked like he hesitated for a split second before he responded. “We may have gained access to the item itself, but that information is still confidential,” he said curtly. “We’ve been assured that we have all the necessary components. A name isn’t necessary.”

“I understand, sir.” Levi was right, but Armin couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

The Corporal gave him a long look, his expression almost contemplative beneath the perpetual glower. “Regardless of who made it, it’s in your hands now. That’s the only thing that matters.” He lifted his hand, but the motion hitched halfway up and became a brief, awkward wave as he turned abruptly to stride off across the grass. “We’re counting on you to make it work,” he called over his shoulder.

Armin watched him go, baffled. From the central tower, the bell began to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy look, stuff is actually starting to happen now, sort of! And it only took five chapters. Oops. You can probably tell I'm not used to writing long fics. So this is certainly a new experience.
> 
> Anyway this is where the technical stuff starts to come in. I've been doing a lot of research on the science-y aspects and trying to stay somewhat accurate to how these things work, although, fair warning, I've taken some liberties with a few things. We'll see how that works out. Hopefully it's not too dry and boring to read, at least.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hope you're enjoying it!
> 
> Fun fact: the big fabric part of a hot-air balloon is actually called an envelope in real life, but I thought it might be too convenient if they just happened to end up using all the same terminologies.


	6. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunchtime shenanigans and scientific breakthroughs. Armin can't resist Eren's puppy-dog eyes, and plans are made for the upcoming day off. The experiments with Hanji continue, though not without a slight mishap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I majored in language, not in physics. I've been doing research on this stuff but I've definitely taken some liberties - if anyone who knows better happens to read this, I just hope it's not too egregious.

The following morning was spent in Hanji’s lab, carefully measuring, cutting, and stitching pieces of treated linen to make the first batch of prototypes. It was tedious work. Armin wasn’t terrible at needlework, but one of the heat-proofing solutions had caused the fabric to stiffen up, so he kept jabbing his fingers with the needle when he finally managed to force it through the tough folds. And there was a _lot_ to sew. They were constructing three balloons of the same (relatively) small size, one for each heat-proofing solution they’d made yesterday. After ascertaining which solution worked best, they would move on to testing larger sizes.

Armin bit back a curse as he stabbed his thumb for the umpteenth time. He was hunched over the main desk while Hanji had their pieces sprawled out on the floor, the various articles of furniture, tools, and equipment shoved unceremoniously to the perimeters to make room. They were faster with their stitches than he was, and had already started on the first panels of the third balloon. Armin was only just finishing the first one. If such small prototypes took so much time to put together, he shuddered to think of how long the full-scale model would take. They were going to need a _lot_ of thread.

He tied off a knot at the end of his final stitch, pulled out all the pins, and checked over his work to make sure there were no holes or large gaps. Satisfied, he sheared the excess fabric off the seams, then began inserting a wire rim at the bottom to reinforce the mouth. Tedious though it was, part of him was almost soothed by the work. It took him back to childhood afternoons spent on little experiments under the guidance of his parents, on the rare occasions when they were around. The balloons reminded him of one time in particular when they’d made little parachutes for eggs, like the kind thrill-seekers used when they jumped off castle towers (and, on one scandalous occasion, the Wall). They’d dropped the eggs in their tiny padded harnesses from the second-floor window and watched them float harmlessly to the ground. It had been a fun way to spend the afternoon, but not quite as crucial to the war effort as this was. The other part of him was just anxious to get to the next phase of the testing process.

Hanji glanced up at him as he finished stitching the rim into place. “Done?” They asked around the pins poking out of their mouth.

“Yep,” he replied, sticking his arm into the completed canopy and turning it right-side out. Not too shabby, if he did say so himself. He straightened up and stretched, his back stiff from hunching over the desk for so long. “Should I start rigging the lanterns to the finished balloons?”

“You might as well wait,” they told him. “Mess should be starting any minute, you should go eat. Can’t have my helper collapsing on me.” Sure enough, the bell began to clang in the central tower.

“What about you?” Armin asked, sliding down off his stool.

“Psh, I overcame basic bodily needs a long time ago,” They said with a grin. “I’ll work on finishing this baby up. You can bring something back for me… what is it today, macaroni? Hold the green beans, though, I hate those.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he replied with a small grin of his own as he saluted and excused himself.

\--

Unfortunately it was vegetable stew on the menu today, not macaroni. Hanji would have to pick the green beans out themself. Armin slid into his seat and glanced around, but today there was no swarm of people bearing down on him. They must have had their fill on balloon-related questions for the time being. That, or they just didn’t want to listen to any more dry science lectures. Armin was fine with that. He greeted his friends as they settled in around him – Eren and Mikasa on either side of him, Sasha, Connie, and Jean across the table.

Eren unceremoniously plunked his tray on the table and slumped into his seat, dropping his head into his hands with a long groan.

“Joint drills today,” Mikasa explained at Armin’s quizzical look.

“For everybody,” Jean added, with a tired grimace. Even Sasha was shoveling down her food with less gusto than usual. “Under Levi. He seemed to think we had it too easy while he was away.”

“Oh.” Armin gave them a sympathetic frown, silently counting his blessings that he was excused from regular drills. “Was it just for today?”

“The rest of the week,” Eren mumbled from behind his hands. “You’re so lucky, Armin. Can I have a spot on the balloon team, too?”

“We were more like a sewing circle this morning,” he replied, lips twitching upwards. “Somehow, I think you’d have an even worse time with that.” The brunette grumbled out an incoherent noise and picked up his spoon in defeat.

“I dunno, man. Sewing’s pretty boring, but Levi had us run fifty laps. _Fifty laps!_ ” Connie shook his spoon in emphasis. “And that’s after running us ragged on gear drills and tearing me a new one for not folding my cuffs back. The man is a demon, a tiny, anal demon! Even I’d take needlework over three more days of this.”

“That’s something, coming from the guy who won’t even patch the holes in his socks,” Jean snorted into his cup.

“You’re almost as bad as demon-man!” He brandished his spoon indignantly. A fleck of broth flew across the table towards Armin, but Mikasa intercepted it neatly with her napkin before it could hit him. He glanced over at her and a wordless moment of camaraderie passed between them. Meals with this group could easily turn into a battlefield.

“Between the two of you, you’re like the Neatness Brigade or something! What did my socks ever do to you to make you hate them so much?” Connie continued, waggling his utensil admonishingly in Jean’s face.

“They’re an eyesore, that’s what.” Jean sniffed disdainfully and leaned away from the weapon. “Your toes poke out of them like ugly little worms. You’ll never impress any girls like that.”

“I don’ patth my hocks eihher,” Sasha objected around a large mouthful of stew. Connie gave a triumphant “hah!” and Jean made a face.

“You’re both disgusting.”

“What would _you_ know about impressing girls, anyway?” Eren scoffed. “They’ll never see your perfect socks when that mop on your head scares everyone away.”

Armin caught a glimpse of Mikasa rolling her eyes. _Here we go again._ It had only been a matter of time, really. He didn’t think these two could help themselves.

“ _I’ve_ got a mop? That’s rich. Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Jean snapped back.

A sudden wave of nostalgia rolled over Armin as the two took verbal potshots at each other. He wasn’t sure why – exchanges like this were commonplace to the point where most people just tuned them out. Maybe it was something about the way the sunlight, still tinged with morning coolness, filtered down through the high windows. Maybe it was how mundane the conversation was. It was almost like being Cadets again, when such things seemed even mildly important. These were the same people who, just over a week ago, had sat in heavy silence as once again they adjusted to the newly-empty spaces on the benches beside them. It was almost hard to think that, after everything they’d been through, they were still capable of getting caught up in things so trivial. But then, maybe it was _because_ of everything they’d been through. Without a degree of normalcy in their lives, what would keep them from just breaking down? He glanced over at Eren, who was scowling across the table without any real malice. The two provided a good distraction for each other. It was much nicer to see them bickering than picking listlessly at their food, or off hurling stones at the side of the woodshed.

“Oh, right – don’t we get Monday off?” Connie remembered, turning away from the spectacle. “Ahh, I can’t wait. The week after an expedition always drags. What are you guys gonna do?”

Armin shrugged. He hadn’t really thought about it – days off didn’t have quite the glamor anymore that they once did. Lately he’d been more inclined to spend them the same way he spent many of his evenings, by finding a spot in the archives and burying himself under piles of expedition records and tactics books. Without drills and chores to keep him occupied, the musty old tomes and scrolls kept his mind from wandering to less pleasant places. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I’ll start drawing up potential engine modifications for the balloon. The original leaves a lot of room for improvement in terms of capacity and efficiency…”

“What?” Eren abandoned his banter halfway through one of Jean’s retorts and turned to Armin with a frown. “Why? Isn’t the point of a day off to, you know, not work?”

“Yeah, man, live a little!” Connie agreed, with some accompanying gesture, but Armin was too distracted by the mixture of confusion and disappointment painted all over Eren’s face to see what it was.

“Well, yes,” he admitted, suddenly feeling like he was defending himself. “But this is such an important project. If there’s anything I can do to speed the process along… and it’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

“I…” Eren trailed off and looked away. He glanced over at Mikasa, then dropped his gaze back to Armin’s. “I just thought, maybe we could do something together.”

Jean, disgruntled at having been cut off, gave a sarcastic wolf whistle. Eren shot him a glare, and this one had an edge to it. “The _three_ of us,” he clarified. “It’s just… it feels like it’s been a while, you know? You’ve been shutting yourself up in the archives so much lately.”

“Oh…” He glanced at Mikasa on his other side and found her dark eyes fixed steadily on him. Pinned between their gazes, guilt began to set in. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to avoid his friends, but even he could recognize that he’d become somewhat antisocial in his efforts to keep himself distracted. “What did you have in mind?”

Eren shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe get off base for the day. Go somewhere new.” He peered down at Armin, green eyes lit with a tentative hope.

“There are some towns nearby that recently finished rebuilding,” Mikasa added. “A change of scenery might be nice.”

The blonde bit his lip against the warm swell of affection in his chest. It suddenly struck him how much he missed them – a strange thought, considering he saw them both daily. “I’ll check with Hanji and make sure they won’t want me in that day. But,” he gave them a smile, small but sincere. “I’d really like that.”

Eren’s face broke out in a wide grin and Mikasa gave a pleased nod behind her scarf. It would be good to spend time with them outside the context of daily routine, to have the leisure to really enjoy their company.

“Speaking of,” Connie interjected. “Me and Sasha found this great tavern in Solfeld last month. After you guys do your exploring, why don’t we all meet there for some evening unwinding?” Grinning, he mimicked tilting a glass to his lips.

“I’m in!” Jean perked up, chin lifting from where it had been perched on his palm. “Anything’s better than the watery shit you get around here.”

“You don’t even have to ask me.” Sasha nudged Connie playfully in the ribs as she scraped the last remnants of broth from the bottom of her bowl. “I’m practically already there.”

Eren paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t mind if you guys don’t,” he said, glancing sidelong at the other two.

Mikasa echoed his gesture. “I’ll go if you do.” She didn’t lift her gaze as she raised her water to her lips.

The other four sets of eyes settled on Armin. “Ah… I’m… not really one for drinking.”

“What’s the matter, can’t bear to lose that composure?” Jean teased.

“Something like that.” He stared into his bowl as he scooped up a spoonful with more care than was necessary, refusing to let his gaze drift towards Eren. “Anyway, are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t want to be hungover during drills.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem as long as we don’t go overboard.” Sasha waved it off. “But you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to! Their food is also amazing.”

“Yeah!” Connie agreed emphatically. “At least use the opportunity to eat something other than this bleh military cooking. It’ll do your soul good!”

Armin bit his lip. “Well…”

The light brush of an elbow against his own drew his attention to Mikasa. “I don’t plan on drinking, either,” she reassured. “If that’s what worries you.”

He met her cool gaze and relaxed a little. “Alright, then,” he agreed.

\--

“The only thing worse than green beans is _overcooked_ green beans.” Hanji watched with a kind of fascinated disgust as they let the soggy vegetable slide off the spoon and plop sadly back into the bowl.

“Sorry. It wasn’t a macaroni day, after all.” Armin gave a sheepish shrug.

“Eh, well.” The Squad Leader gave a resigned sigh and set the bowl on the floor to one side. “I haven’t quite finished the last balloon yet, but it’s almost done. I’d estimate…” they peered down at the mess of fabric piled on their lap, “…maybe another half hour, max. In the meantime, would you start preparing our lovely little makeshift engines?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take over the sewing so you can eat?”

“Nah, I can eat while I work.”

“Alright.” He picked up the balloon that Hanji had completed and immediately noticed how much lighter it was than the one he’d worked on. The fabric was a lot less stiff, too. He laid both canopies out on his work surface, then bent down to grab the small crate tucked beneath the desk. He lifted out three small kerosene lanterns, a fuel canister, and six lengths of sturdy wire. The lanterns he placed at the base of the two canopies; the rest he set to one side, out of the way but within reach.

Armin lowered himself onto the stool and surveyed the materials. They’d decided to use lanterns for the first prototypes because they were the closest thing they had to a small-scale version of an engine. Candles were all well and good when your balloon was made of paper and the size of a small pumpkin – not so much when it was six times bigger and much heavier to boot. Not only would the lanterns produce more heat, but the glass chimney would also simultaneously protect the flame from the wind and channel the heat up into the mouth of the canopy. As he dissembled the lanterns and pulled the fuel canister closer, he couldn’t help but wonder if this would work after all. It still might not produce enough heat to compensate for the weight.

He set about to the task of fitting the lamp wicks and filling the fuel tanks, then gave the wicks time to soak. In the meantime, he took up one length of the stiff wire and began to fasten it to the first lantern. The lanterns were an older model – the military used newer, brighter-burning designs, but most civilians still used this kind, so Armin knew there used to be a sturdy handle attached there. Hanji must have already removed it in the interest of minimizing the weight. He had slight difficulty winding the stiff wire around the fixture – the sharp edge where it had been cut bit into his abused fingers as he forced it to loop around on itself a few times for stability. When he was finished, the wire stuck up into the air a few inches above the lip of the chimney. He pulled hard on it, but his knot didn’t budge. Alright, one end down… eleven more to go. He got up to find a pair of pliers, to save his fingers.

Aside from Hanji muttering to themself and the occasional gagging noise that he could only assume was over the stew, the pair worked in a focused silence. Armin couldn’t help the thoughts that crowded into his mind, despite his best efforts to keep himself immersed in his task. Doubts and objections kept flitting through his skull, but he tried to keep them at bay. _You’re afraid it’ll let you down, right?_ He finished fixing a wire to the rim of one of the canopies. It suddenly struck him how much he _wanted_ this to work. He hadn’t even known about it until just the other day, but the magnitude of its possibility was almost too good to be true. And something, something about the balloon called out to the dreamer in him, despite the layers of realism he tried to bury it under. How many poems had he read that expressed the longing for flight, the yearning to leave the earth’s constraints behind and take to the boundless sky? How often had he watched crows soar high overhead, riding the breeze in slow, easy arcs? It was a different kind of flight than what maneuver gear allowed, lighter and graceful. Gear was for fighting. Wings were for freedom. The ones emblazoned across his back still couldn’t take him where he wanted to go, but maybe… just maybe, the balloon could. The rough ink drawing of the ocean in his book ghosted into his mind, his imagination flooding it with color, green and blue and beautiful. He set his jaw and twisted at the wire with a renewed sense of determination.

He finished his handiwork around the same time Hanji exclaimed, “Done!” They hopped nimbly to their feet and plopped their finished canopy on the desk, leaning over it to get a look at Armin’s work. Two of the balloons were finished, the canopies draped limply across the desk with the mouths suspended a little above the top of the lanterns' chimneys. The wires on the third lantern stuck straight up like little silver antennae, woefully incomplete as they awaited the final canopy.

“Looking good! Let’s get this last one on – here, I’ll take this side, you take that one.” Between the two of them, they attached it quickly. “Okay, great! Yes! Now–” Hanji was practically vibrating with excitement beside him. “Let’s get out there and test these beauties! Ah, shit, my notebook…” They tromped through the clutter to a bookshelf overflowing with masses of books and loose papers, nearly tripping over the forgotten stew bowl in their hurry. “Grab the matches, will you? Oh, and the rope!”

He did as he was told, finding the somewhat-squished matchbox half-buried under a pile of linen scraps, and the rope dumped in a pile on the nightstand by the door. He draped the rope over his shoulder and tucked the matches into his breast pocket so he had both hands free to carry the balloons. Somehow he managed to get two of them arranged awkwardly but more or less steadily in his arms. Hanji grabbed the third and charged outside. They only remembered to hold the door as an afterthought, catching it with the toe of their boot just before it swung closed in Armin’s face. The two of them set everything down in the grass some distance behind the lab, then Hanji had to run back in, having forgotten a pen.

“My favorite part,” they proclaimed gleefully when they returned, rubbing their hands together. “Which shall we try first?” They paced a slow circle around the balloons, staring them down with an expression that bordered on predatory.

“If I may make a suggestion,” Armin offered, too used to the Squad Leader’s eccentricities to be fazed. “The two heat-proofing solutions that used borates were more experimental, so we don’t know how well they’ll work in practice. The canopy treated with the household-grade alum solution is more likely to hold… although I noticed it made the linen much stiffer and heavier than the others, so it may not fly as well.”

“Oh, is that so?” Hanji nodded briefly. “Let’s start with an experimental one, then. I wanna see some height!” They crouched, checking the canopies for the label with the solution formula, and setting the chosen one apart from the other two. They pulled out their notepad. “Experiment notes… Small prototype one, practical heat testing… Dimensions… Solution…” they muttered as they scribbled a hasty heading. In the meantime, Armin bent to tie one end of the long, thin rope to the lantern. He had actually been angling to test the heavier one first, so they could use the common solution as the control, but he’d learned long ago to pick his battles when it came to arguing the Squad Leader’s whims.

“Alright!” Hanji tossed the notebook to one side and slapped their hands down on their kneecaps. “Let’s get to the fun part! Armin, where are the matches?”

“Oh, they’re here–” he fished the dented matchbox out of his pocket, but hesitated as he reached out to hand it over. “Maybe… to be on the safe side, we should get some water.”

Hanji groaned impatiently, then stood, casting around. Their eyes landed on a soldier stocking the woodshed on the other side of the field. “HEY! YOU!” Armin jumped as Hanji suddenly bellowed across the field. The soldier wheeled around in startled confusion. “EMERGENCY ORDERS! BRING ME A BUCKET OF WATER! OR MAYBE TWO! STAT!” The soldier saluted and dashed off, and the Squad Leader knelt again and unscrewed the chimney from the lantern, holding it a little above the base. “Would you like to do the honors?” They directed a small grin up at Armin.

“Oh… thank you,” he replied, somewhat surprised. He had expected Hanji to want to do most of it in their excitement. He struck a match and, palm cupped around the flame, carefully slipped it under the glass to light the wick. He shook out the match as Hanji quickly replaced the chimney and fiddled with the knob to adjust it until the flame stopped smoking. Armin grabbed the main body of the canopy and held it up so it could fill better and…

…They waited. And waited.

Of course it wouldn’t happen right away. He hadn’t expected that. But he was a little surprised it was taking _this_ long, considering the paper balloons lifted so easily. Then again, this had significantly more volume to fill.

Hanji frowned and flapped the canopy a little. “I don’t think it’s… oh wait, I see a little air in there. Is the lantern hot enough?” They tested the air around the mouth of the chimney with their fingers. “It’s getting pretty hot… I checked for holes already, but do you see any on that side?”

“No, none.” Armin considered. If it took this long to fill such a small prototype, he didn’t even want to think how long it would take for the full-scale model, even with a real engine. But maybe they could find some way to speed the process along. “I wonder… maybe we could partially inflate it before starting the heat? To just give it a little boost. The air will heat up anyway, so…”

“Oh! That could work!” Hanji perked up and grinned widely at him. “See, this is exactly why I picked you for this project.”

“Thank you… Do you think we should start this one over?”

“Hmm… Nah, it’d be a hassle to wait for it to cool. Besides, it looks like it’s starting to go a little faster now.”

Sure enough, the fabric was beginning to swell more visibly. Once it got going, it didn’t take too much longer. Soon it had expanded to its full size, the linen globe warm and thrumming beneath Armin’s palms, almost like a faint heartbeat. Hanji caught his gaze over the top of the canopy and gave a brief nod, and they let go simultaneously. He caught his breath, instinctively expecting it to drop to the ground, but then it was _up_ , the canopy was _floating_ all on its own, held in place above the lantern by the wire. Hanji’s expression glowed with speechless anticipation as they both took a couple of steps away, wide eyes fixed on the balloon. He bent down and took the rope loosely in his fingers, almost as an afterthought. The linen stretched taut as the canopy bulged with air, the wires began to tense under its pull…

“Come on, come on,” Hanji muttered breathlessly. At some point Armin’s fingers had tightened around the rope, nails digging into his palms. Almost there, it was almost there… his heart leapt in his throat as the lantern twitched, then began to lift slowly off the ground. A centimeter, and then an inch, and then the flat base cleared the top of the grass…

“Yes!” Hanji cheered, and the canopy’s mouth burst into flame.

The lantern thumped back down, thankfully upright, and the canopy began to deflate above it as the flames started to spread upwards. Swearing, Hanji rushed to extinguish the lantern, then hurriedly tugged it out from underneath the burning canopy’s descent. The fabric was still attached to the wire, so they tipped the lantern on its side and began to stomp at the flames, trying to smother them before they could spread. Armin quickly dragged the other two balloons farther out of harm’s way and cast around for something he could do, but suddenly a familiar voice called “watch out!” and a split second later the fire was out. The blackened fabric, surrounding grass, and Hanji’s boots were all drenched in water.

“Sorry I took so long,” Eren panted as he caught his breath. A dripping, empty bucket hung loosely from his hand, and another, slightly less empty one sat in the grass by his feet. “Corporal’s still on his mad cleaning spree so I had to track down the buckets.”

“No… that was good timing,” Armin let out a relieved sigh. It had been a pretty small fire, but it could’ve gotten bad if the grass had started to catch.

“And good thinking, Armin,” Hanji looked forlornly down at the ruined balloon for a moment before shrugging it off and picking up the notebook. “Honestly, we should’ve prepared for that outcome sooner. I never even thought of it.”

“I guess we both got a bit too caught up,” he admitted sheepishly. The Squad Leader was known for letting eagerness get in the way of safety precautions, but he was a little surprised it had only occurred to _him_ as an afterthought. A heat-proofing solution could only do so much, after all.

“Well, that one’s a bust,” Hanji sighed, scribbling down some notes. “The solution worked fine on the preliminary heat testing yesterday, but I guess it was no good for prolonged exposure.”

“Hopefully at least the alum solution will hold. Should we try that one next, or the other borate solution?”

“Borate. If that one fails too we’ll at least have a more likely one to end with.” They stopped writing and glanced up at Eren, who stood there watching the exchange with an odd little half-smile. But he snapped back to attention when Hanji addressed him. “Eren, thanks for the water… though it looks like you’re a little low in that other bucket.”

“Ah… I started running when I saw the fire, and some of it spilled. I apologize.”

“Well, good news! You can make it up to us by getting refills. I’ll let you get back to your normal duties after that.”

“Yes, Squad Leader.” He picked up the other bucket and strode off for the well. Armin, crouching to switch the rope to the next prototype, watched out of the corner of his eye as Eren’s boots receded across the grass. If he remembered the schedule right, shouldn’t Eren be on kitchen duty today? Why had he been out stocking firewood?

“Okay,” Hanji’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Armin shook himself out of them. This was no time to be getting distracted. “So. Attempt number two. How should we go about getting this inflated better?”

Both were silent for a moment as they considered this.

“Some kind of fan, maybe?” Armin suggested. “I’m not sure what we have at our disposal right now. Maybe we could use a fan from the spare parts of broken maneuver gear… rig it to a different fuel source, or turn it manually…”

“That,” Hanji said, pointing a finger at him, “is a great idea. For later. We’ll remember that. But right now that’ll take too much time. And I have the bigger lung capacity, so…”

Before he could say anything, Hanji dropped to their knees in the grass and held the lantern down with one hand. With the other they twisted the canopy’s neck upwards, sealed the opening firmly over their mouth, and began to blow into it. Armin watched at a loss, not sure what he could do other than stand there awkwardly. The Squad Leader took long, deep breaths, puffing their cheeks out wide, and exhaled until they went red in the face. It would’ve looked comical if he wasn’t worried that they might actually pass out.

On the other hand, it was certainly more effective than the lantern alone had been. Eren returned much quicker this time, and there was already a noticeable bulge in the canopy. Hanji just waved a dismissal at him as he set the full buckets down, unfaltering in their task. He glanced with some concern from Hanji, who was starting to turn a little blue, to Armin, who gave a helpless shrug. Eren returned the gesture and rolled his eyes knowingly, giving a brief parting wave as he turned to jog back to the woodshed. Armin’s lips quirked upwards despite himself.

Hanji detached from the balloon with a gasp, pinching closed the neck of the half-inflated canopy hanging awkwardly onto the grass. “Okay,” they wheezed, doubled over as they sucked in fresh air. They waved their hand in some urgent, indistinct gesture, and Armin ducked down, lighting the lantern as quickly as he could while the Squad Leader caught their breath.

The extra inflation boost made a big difference. Only minutes after the lantern warmed up the canopy began to swell, the weight of the fabric lessening under their steadying hands. Before long it, like the first, had reached its capacity and stayed up when the two stepped away. The canopy swayed slightly in the gentle breeze, and began to strain upwards. The wires tightened under its pull. The lantern began to lift off the ground. Armin wasn’t breathing. He fixed his gaze on the opening, watching for any sign of smoldering. The base of the lantern cleared the grass. The rope’s weave was leaving its imprint in his clenched fingers. The call of a distant voice echoed indistinctly and mingled with birdsong in the empty air.

The balloon was at eye level now. It rose, ponderously at first, as if waking from a long sleep, then with more surety as it climbed higher, above their heads, up to roof level, spinning with the casual ease of a dancer as it went. And still it ascended, up and up and up, drifting first one way and then another in the whims of the breeze, until the rope went taut in Armin’s hand. The lantern flickered distantly down at him and he could feel it tugging, feel it yearning for the soft embrace of the clouds, and he felt the sudden irrational desire to just let go and watch it pirouette away, yield itself to the sky and disappear into the heavens.

Hanji said something reverently, but their voice came muted to his ears, like they were speaking through water. All Armin could do was stare transfixed up at the tiny distant shape that stood in sharp relief against the clear afternoon sky, tugging, pulsing, alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I included a lot more specific detail about the balloon process in this chapter, but I ended up taking it out because it seemed too tedious. I just hope this thing isn't too boring despite my efforts. We'll be getting to the drama before long, if you can make it that far.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survey Corps get a rather unwelcome guest in the form of a Military Police officer. But is his purpose really what he says it is...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Insert previous chapter's disclaimer about not having a physics degree]

The next couple of days were a blur of activity, and Armin found himself possessed by a kind of focused frenzy as he gathered supplies, spent hours deep in discussion with Hanji over developmental possibilities, and pored single-mindedly over needlework, diagrams, field notes, and physics books. He could barely sleep – his mind was too filled with images of the balloons, a constant stream of mental calculations as he imagined tweaking here, adjusting there – and yet he had never felt more energized. He’d wake up well before the morning bell, dress quickly and quietly in the early-morning darkness of the barracks, and jog out to meet his equally restless superior at the lab. He would’ve gladly skipped meals if Hanji, with a knowing smile, didn’t insist on dismissing him, but they did happily allow him to come back during his free time in the evenings. He was beginning to understand firsthand his Squad Leader’s zeal as together they worked intently right up to curfew.

Their first successful test flight had been seen by a few soldiers passing by in the courtyard on their various errands, so he found his popularity renewed during meals. The throng that swarmed him with questions was much more enthusiastic about his explanations now that some of them had actually seen the device in action, and so for two days he practically lived and breathed balloons. He barely got a word in with Mikasa and Eren, the latter of whom quickly grew visibly impatient with the crowds, but they both offered their encouragement nonetheless. Mikasa’s small, proud smile and Eren’s warm hand on his shoulder were tiny beacons of clarity amidst the constant buzzing swarms of thoughts crowding the beehive of his skull.

As Armin had predicted, the balloon treated with the alum solution had not caught fire, but it hadn’t flown as well as the other one – there was still slack left in the rope when it reached its peak height. After multiple other test flights with both functioning prototypes, there had been no significant signs of damage on either, so they had decided on the successful borate solution as the heat-proofing method for the next round of prototypes and, eventually, the full-scale model. They had managed to make it back to the chemist before they closed for the day, treated the linen for the second round, and let it dry overnight. They also bought enough silk to make another small prototype, to see if their heat-proofing solution would work as well on the lighter, more flexible fabric.

The new batch took the entirety of the next day to construct, even with the extra helpers that Hanji had managed to rope in. The two new linen canopies were significantly bigger, both of them towering over Armin when stretched to their full height. Some of the other soldiers were confused by the apparent waste of pouring so much time and resources into such big prototypes instead of going right for the full-sized version, and Armin had to explain that it was important to thoroughly test the size-to-weight ratio before risking any human lives. Besides, as big as these prototype canopies were, they were still only a fraction of the size of the original. If the other soldiers had seen _that_ yawning across the field, they’d realize that the materials used on the prototypes didn’t even come close to how much they’d waste if they went straight for a full-scale model and got it wrong.

The real challenge had been the heat source – the new prototypes were much too large to be sustained by a simple lantern. But he and Hanji put their heads together and ultimately managed to find a way to replicate the function on a larger scale. Using the impressive variety of tools Hanji had squirreled away in the lab, they managed to modify two relatively lightweight oil drums into makeshift burners. To facilitate the canopy’s inflation, they hooked up a gas tank to a few fans salvaged from broken maneuver gear.

After the construction day came the test flights. A throng of soldiers had gathered in the courtyard to watch in awe as the smaller of the large prototypes rose steadily up – and it was lucky that they did, because Hanji and Armin quickly found that it was much harder for just two people to hold onto the rope without getting dragged along. They ended up hauling a cart loaded with heavy crates to the middle of the testing field, and tethering the balloon to one of the shafts.

Then it was time to start the weight testing. They fixed wicker baskets beneath the makeshift engines and loaded them with various weights, increasing the size of the load each time they sent it up. This was a long process, interspersed with many breaks to scribble down weights and peak heights and observation notes, to replace fuel and check the canopy for wear, and then start the inflation process all over again. Amongst all this, they still somehow managed to find the time to run tests on the small silk prototype, discovering that it held up just as well as the linen while flying even better.

The weight testing was continuing into today. Armin rushed out of the lab bearing heavy armfuls of rope, nearly stumbling over a trailing loop as he ran out to where Hanji was watching their biggest balloon drifting about in the air. It was already far overhead, but today they were testing how far up it could go with a given amount of weight. They would keep extending the tether rope until it couldn’t go any higher.

“Boy, it sure is windy up there,” Hanji remarked, shielding their eyes against the sun as they squinted up at the now tiny shape in the sky.

“That makes things more difficult for us,” Armin remarked as he tied the new rope to the ever-extending tether, double-checking and triple-checking his knots before letting the length out. “It’s not a matter of just waiting for it to go slack anymore.” Indeed, the rope stretched taut at an angle as the balloon was pulled by the breeze. As the new extension pulled to its maximum length, the balloon changed direction. Hanji stepped out of the way to avoid getting caught in the face by the rope as it swung around, the cart shaft creaking slightly. Armin’s eyes followed its movement curiously.

“Oh, I think it’s higher than the Wall now!” Hanji cheered, and he looked up. Visually, it was hard to tell from this perspective, but…

“That was the ninth length of six-meter rope,” he confirmed, his heart giving a strange little flutter as he watched the speck drifting lazily above. This flight had it carrying the heaviest load so far – they had estimated that, proportionally, it would be roughly equivalent to the balloon-to-weight ratio of a full-scale model carrying a human passenger. They still needed to run tests simulating the additional weight of supplies, equipment, and extra fuel, but at the moment all he could think of was the image of the Wall receding away beneath him, no more an obstacle than a fallen tree in the forest. As he let out another length of rope, he had to reign in his imagination. Now wasn’t the time to start daydreaming.

Eventually, the tether began to pull more and more to one side at a much steeper angle, so they guessed that it was done ascending. It was hard work hauling it back in with just the two of them, and they were both huffing and puffing by the time they got it grounded and deflating. Armin leaned against the shaft and swiped his wrist across his damp forehead as he caught his breath.

“You Survey Corps certainly do work quickly.”

He started at the voice and turned to see an unfamiliar soldier standing behind them, observing the half-collapsed canopy with a kind of cool appraisal. The man had high cheekbones and a narrow face, and his uniform was emblazoned with the insignia of the Military Police. He looked fairly young – Armin would guess he was somewhere in his thirties – but there was a kind of gauntness to him that Armin wouldn’t expect of someone from the interior.

The stranger’s eyes drifted down to the two startled soldiers. “Ah, forgive me,” he said. “I was on my way to present myself to your Commander when I saw the device in the air. Curiosity got the better of me, I’m afraid.” The slight hint of a smirk played at the corners of his thin lips as he spoke.

Hanji recovered first. “Major Adler,” they greeted, with cool politeness. “What an… _unexpected_ surprise. Are you on disciplinary leave again?”

The man – Major Adler – gave a brief chuckle. “I see you are the jester as always. No, in fact – I’m here on official business.”

“Things in the interior must be incredibly slow if they’re sending _you_ out here. What kind of official business?” Hanji asked suspiciously. Armin could practically feel the tension in the air. He skimmed through his memory, but the man’s name didn’t ring any bells. Maybe he was just someone they dealt with in the interior… but somehow, this felt a little different from the typical Survey Corps-Military Police antagonism.

“ _That_ official business,” Adler said, nodding towards the balloon behind them.

“That’s _our_ business.” There was a defensive edge to Hanji’s voice now.

“I know you’re a famed scatterbrain, but don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten where you got it,” he replied coolly, hooking his thumbs casually into his belt. “If you can get that thing working, it could be a crucial piece of military technology. And not just for your suicidal branch. You can be sure, the Military Police has a stake in this, too.”

“The _Military Police_ left this rotting in a dusty basement for a decade. And now you want it?”

“There is a lot of contraband, Squad Leader.” Adler spread his arms in a helpless shrug, slowly shaking his head in a show of disappointment. “Sometimes, the officer who logs an item is not aware of the… full potential it may hold.”

“I suppose locking up things you don’t fully understand is your specialty.”

“And rushing headlong into them is yours. But I didn’t come here to argue with you. I have written orders from Chief Commander Zackley, as you may confirm with Commander Smith later.” His gaze drifted over to Armin as Hanji fumed. “And who might you be?”

It took him a split second of mental fumbling to catch up to the surprise of being addressed, and of falling under the scrutiny of such a shrewd gaze. He saluted. “Private Arlert, sir. I have the honor of serving as Squad Leader Hanji’s assistant on this project.”

“Oh?” A gleam of interest sparked in Adler’s eye. “Arlert, you say? You wouldn’t be the same Arlert who distinguished himself at the Battle of Trost with the plan to retake the town?”

Armin lowered his gaze, but before he could respond Hanji dropped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s him, all right. We got quite a skilled batch of recruits that year.”

“I should say so.” But he wasn’t addressing the Squad Leader. “Eren Jaeger and the genius Ackerman were in the same year, were they not? Those must be difficult talents to match.”

“I just do what I can, sir.” Armin felt his jaw clench.

“Well, you seem to be making good progress with this flying device. You’ve only had it for… what, a little less than a week?”

“Oh, it wasn’t too difficult to discern and replicate the original’s basic functions,” Hanji cut in again, haughtily. “We have high hopes for its success. Who knows how many lives might have been spared if we’d had it sooner? Oh, well.” They shrugged and gave an exaggerated smile. “How long did you say you were going to be here, again?”

“Oh, just a couple of days. I hope you don’t mind me observing your work – I’ve been tasked with reporting on the project’s progress and likelihood,” Adler responded, with an equally false smile.

“We don’t mind at all,” Hanji grit through their teeth. “Why don’t you run along and give your little note to the Commander? I’m sure he’ll be just thrilled.”

“I expect he’ll be more gracious, at least.” He stepped forward and held a hand out to Armin. “A pleasure to meet you, Private Arlert.”

Forcing a smile, Armin reached out to shake his hand. The Major’s grip was tight and his fingers were cold despite the pleasant spring weather. Adler grinned at him. His smile looked too wide for his narrow face and exposed two perfect rows of small, white teeth. Armin was reminded uncomfortably of a Titan.

“I expect I’ll see you later,” he said, and turned to stride leisurely away.

“Yeah, great. I hope Erwin gives you the coldest, mustiest basement room,” Hanji muttered resentfully at his back. Armin glanced over, perturbed by the seemingly contagious animosity.

“May I ask…?”

The Squad Leader gave a displeased sigh as the two of them moved to give the balloon’s canopy its routine damage check. “Adler’s head of Public Affairs over in the interior,” they explained. “Officially, that puts him in charge of managing the MP’s relationship with the citizens and the other military branches. Practically, though, it lets him monitor and control the spread of information. His department was the one responsible for cracking down on people who talked about going outside the Walls.”

“I remember that,” Armin said, feeling an unpleasant chill. How could he forget the feeling of claustrophobia and scrutiny, the fear that his often absent parents might never come back at all, the paranoia that one day he’d come home to find the house ransacked and his grandpa missing? He’d heard of people disappearing, though it had never happened to anyone he knew. The boys who used to pick on him would sometimes threaten to report him to the Military Police, and they probably would have if they’d ever found out about the contents of his book – he’d been lucky that they couldn’t read. Still, he couldn’t help but shrink back when he saw the unicorn insignia on an officer patrolling the streets or loitering by a tavern. So Adler had been responsible for all that… and it followed that he was also responsible for the fate of the people who _did_ disappear. Armin’s stomach churned.

“What is he doing _here?_ Wouldn’t it make more sense to send a subordinate, if all he needed was some observation notes?”

Hanji shrugged. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.” They gave Armin a long look, as if debating whether to tell him something, but after a moment they continued. “That guy is bad news. He was involved in a scandal a year or so ago… had a tribunal and everything. He should’ve been fired – hell, he should’ve been _arrested_ – but he got off with just probation. I guess they paid a lot of people off to keep it quiet. The only reason I even know about it is because we happened to be there delivering a report at the time.”

Armin racked his brains. “I think I remember hearing rumors about an officer getting bailed out of trouble. Never anything specific, though.”

“The point is, if the MP’s Command values him enough to pour all those resources into keeping him around, I don’t trust him one bit,” Hanji said darkly. “Keep your guard up, Armin. He must have some ulterior motive.”

“Yes, Squad Leader.”

They went about fitting the balloon with the next set of weights and replacing the fuel. Adler reappeared as they were re-inflating the canopy, this time accompanied by the Commander. Thankfully, they kept their distance, watching from the edge of the courtyard.

“Erwin, you have my eternal gratitude,” Hanji muttered as they awkwardly held the canopy’s mouth open above the makeshift engine while it heated up. “If he’s gotta be here, I really don’t want him breathing down our necks.” But they carried out the rest of their tests in a discomforted silence anyway. The prickle of Adler’s gaze distracted Armin more than any of the other awestruck soldiers that paused to gape. From what Hanji had told him, the balloon must be the reason he was here… right? But if the Military Police really didn’t want it out there, they could have denied the Survey Corps’ requisition, or even destroyed the device. What did they hope to accomplish now that it was already in someone else’s hands? They could hardly punish the whole Survey Corps for trying to go outside, as much as Armin was sure they’d like to.

He realized his hands were clenched into fists around his bundle of rope, and he made himself take a deep breath. As infuriating as it was to see the MPs riding on the work of people they regularly conspired against, there was nothing that could be done about it. The very existence of the Survey Corps was a contradiction to the goals of the Military Police, but in times like these, opportunism was the only smart option. He had known for a long time that the interior would exploit whatever they could – and for that matter, so would the Survey Corps.

There was about an hour left before dinner when they finally finished up their tests, and half that by the time they finished putting everything away and finalizing their notes. Hanji was still in a sour mood.

“Enjoy your day off tomorrow,” they sighed, tossing their notebook unceremoniously onto a mountain of papers. “I’m sure I’ll have to spend it explaining everything to Major Asshole.”

Armin paused. “Are you sure you won’t need me?” He asked hesitantly, afraid to face Eren’s disappointment if he did indeed have to work.

“Nah, you deserve a break. Oh, actually–” Armin winced internally, but they jumped up and scrawled something down on a scrap paper, stamping it hurriedly. “If you could run this errand – just put the order in for the full-scale canopy’s materials. It’ll take at least a few days to come in, there’s so much. Tell them we’ll, er, pay on pickup.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and accepted the paper, which had an order for an absurd amount of silk and chemicals scribbled in barely-legible handwriting, legitimized by the official Survey Corps Command seal.

“Of course,” he agreed, saluting. “And good luck tomorrow.” He didn’t envy them. Hanji grimaced as he excused himself.

Erwin was gone when he exited the lab, but Adler was still lingering around, lazily scanning the close smattering of buildings. Armin hurried across the field towards the courtyard, planning to slip between the bell tower and the storehouse in the hopes of going unnoticed, but the officer turned and spotted him. Adler raised an arm and began to stroll over, and he had no choice but to stop and acknowledge him.

“I must admit, I’m impressed,” the Major said when he reached Armin. “I expected to find some blueprints, at most. But you’ve made quite a lot of progress already.”

He spoke with a tone reminiscent of how one might compliment a toddler’s drawing. “Thank you, sir,” Armin replied with practiced politeness, not letting on how much it grated.

“Is it just the two of you working on it?”

“For the most part, yes.”

“Amazing. It seems so easy for you.”

Armin glanced up at him, trying to mask his suspicion, but his words came out somewhat clipped. “Well, the basic principles of it have already been utilized, just not on such a large scale. With the original model as a reference point, it’s only a matter of putting the pieces together and making adjustments… sir.”

Adler hmmed, watching him with a kind of amused interest. “I can see why you were picked for the job. You seem very invested in it.”

“It is an honor to further humanity’s cause in any way I can, sir.”

“How admirable.”

Adler said nothing more, and an uncomfortable silence filled the air. Armin shuffled impatiently. “Forgive me, but… I was asked to report to the Commander,” he lied. “If I may excuse myself.”

“Is that so.” The tone wasn’t questioning, but indulgent – as if he could see right through the excuse. “Far be it from me to interfere with your duties. Carry on, then.”

“Thank you, sir. Enjoy your evening.” Armin hurried away, glad to escape. He didn’t look back as he crossed the courtyard and headed straight to the main building, in case the Major was still watching. He sighed in relief when the door closed behind him. Hopefully Adler wouldn’t stick around for too long – Armin didn’t normally have such a quick temper, but just two minutes of interaction with this guy was already enough to make him bristle. Maybe it was because his dismissal was aimed at something Armin was working so closely with. Maybe it was the sheer hypocrisy of his supposed objective. Maybe it was his role in perpetuating fear and injustice in their tiny Walled world. It was probably some combination of all those things.

Either way, Armin just hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with him in close proximity. He tried to put it out of his thoughts as he wandered the hallways aimlessly. That’s right, he was off tomorrow. He should try to relax. He should try not to think of shady Military Police agendas, or of how they were going to design the balloon’s engine, or of how long it would take to construct the full-scale canopy, or of Adler’s toothy, knowing smile…

“I don’t like it.” Levi’s harsh voice cut through Armin’s failed attempts to not think of things, and he realized he’d meandered into the office wing. “I can’t stand that asswad and his smug little attitude. He always looks so fucking _amused._ Like everything’s a game and he’s in on it. I don’t want him around here.”

“Nor do I,” came Erwin’s voice. “But he has written orders from Central Command. They’ve made it clear that the interior wants access to any developments we make… whatever his goal is, he’s played his cards right to get it.”

The downside to using repurposed buildings as their base of operations was that the walls weren’t terribly thick to begin with. And on top of that, it sounded like the door to Erwin’s office was slightly ajar. Armin hesitated. He really, _really_ shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his superiors’ private conversations. That kind of thing could get a soldier in big trouble. And yet… he glanced around. The hallway was mostly empty, save for the occasional soldier hurrying by on some task or another, eager to be done with the day’s work. None of them paid him any mind. The other offices immediately around him were either closed or empty. And Hanji’s explanation of Adler’s position and past disciplinary issues had made him curious – if a simple report was all the Military Police needed, they could’ve sent any old grunt. So there must be some other reason why Adler himself was here… and from the sound of it, Erwin seemed to suspect so, too. Armin turned and casually examined the memo board mounted to the wall.

“Do you think this could be about, you know…” Levi trailed off, but his tone indicated that they were sharing a look.

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Erwin’s voice sounded contemplative. “Does he know?”

There was a pause in which Armin imagined Levi shaking his head. “I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem to, anyway.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

“Hey, if you wanna march up and just ask him to his face, be my guest. But from what I can gather, and from what Hanji’s said, it’s probably safe to say he doesn’t know.”

“I see... Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Levi snorted. “Well, I’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to tell him.”

“Regardless, they’ve had the balloon for twelve years – if that’s really what this is about, why wait until now to act?” There was the light sound of shuffling paper. “I’m inclined to doubt it. All the same, let’s keep an eye out.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Armin?”

Armin gave a guilty start and snapped around at the sound of his name to see Mikasa a little ways down the adjoining hallway. She was paused in front of a storage closet with a broom propped on one shoulder and a wastebasket in her other hand. He breathed a little sigh of relief. With a last glance towards Erwin’s office, he hurried over to her before he risked speaking.

“Hey, we finished up early today so I was just wandering,” he said, with a nervous chuckle. She raised an eyebrow. “Do you need any help?” He asked quickly, trying to deflect any suspicion.

She shook her head as she placed the empty wastebasket in the corner of the closet and shut the door. “I’m finished. Just need to drop this off.” She gestured with the broom, and turned to head off with a sidelong glance at Armin. He complied and fell in beside her. They shared a companionable silence as they made their way to deposit the broom back in its proper place on the first floor. Mikasa dusted off her hands, and Armin followed her out the back door onto the training field, where the sun was already sinking and tinting the air with evening gold. They stood in the grass and watched a flock of birds swoop in a dark, amorphous cloud down to their roosts in the trees below.

“Are you sure about tomorrow?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the sky. He glanced over in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“About dinner. You seemed hesitant the other day.” She did look over at him now, meeting his eyes with her calm, steady gaze. “Nobody’s going to force you, if you’d rather not.”

Oh… that. “No, it’s fine,” he reassured, but she seemed unconvinced. “Really, I… I want to go. It’ll be nice to get a meal off base with everybody. I just didn’t want to be the only one not drinking.”

It was true… to an extent. He did want to eat good food and he did want to spend time with his friends in a setting that would (hopefully) allow him to escape the mental haze of any work-associated stress. Alcohol, however, was something he generally tried to avoid nowadays – he’d even taken to retiring from the mess hall early on the occasion they were allowed it with a meal – but he didn’t want to keep the others from their fun. And he _would_ feel better with Mikasa as a fellow non-drinker… she would be sure to keep the rowdy group in control, and just as importantly, she would keep Armin firmly grounded. With her around, there was no chance that he would cave in to the inevitable persistent, if well-intentioned, urges of his tipsy friends to join them in their inebriation. The worst part was that some dark, shameful part of him actually _wanted_ to, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ended up doing something stupid again.

Mikasa was watching him as if trying to puzzle out his thought process. “Does this have something to do with Eren?”

He gave her a quick glance and furrowed his eyebrows. “No? Why would it?”

She gave him a flat stare.

He held his ground. “I’m just not a big drinker, that’s all,” he said reasonably. “And you know as well as I do that it’s not always fun to be the only sober member of a group.”

She squinted at him, then sighed and shook her head. “Okay,” she said, stepping away. “But whatever it is that’s bothering you, I get the feeling you’re overthinking it.” She paused a few steps ahead and turned slightly to wait for him, a silent signal that there were no hard feelings.

Armin hurried to catch up, relieved. He knew that Mikasa was just trying to be there for him, and he felt bad for shutting her out – but if he withheld anything from her, it wasn’t because he didn’t trust her. In fact, part of him wanted more than anything to grab her hand and let everything spill out, hope that she could provide some form of solace. But in addition to his certainty that she’d be more likely to punch him in the face if she knew, there was also his feeling that if the words left his mouth, if someone else heard, then it would become _real._ If it became real, the past two years of shoving everything down into the deepest corners of his mind would all be in vain. If it became real, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist anymore. So he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it… not even to Mikasa.

The evening bell began to clang as they made their way side-by-side across the courtyard, which was already dotted with excited soldiers who’d finished their chores early. Everyone was eager for their day off, and the atmosphere in the mess hall was simultaneously more relaxed and also rowdier than usual. Jean fell in behind them as they lined up with their trays.

“Maria standing, we finally made it,” he said with a crooked grin, leaning forward on the counter as they waited for the line to move. “I am gonna sleep in so late tomorrow.”

“And waste your day off in bed?” Armin teased.

“That’s not a waste, it’s a luxury,” Jean retorted with a snort. “Are you really telling me you’d get up every day at the asscrack of dawn if you didn’t have to?”

The blonde shrugged. “I think it’s kind of nice to wake up early, sometimes. It feels like there’s more time to do things.”

“You have fun with that, you workaholic. Just don’t wake me up on your way out.”

“I won’t, but I can’t say the same for habit.”

They got their food and settled in at their usual table. The others arrived before long, Sasha and Connie rocketing in with extra vigor. The crowd of soldiers brimming with questions that had swarmed him at mealtimes the past few days was conspicuously absent – Armin guessed they were too busy reveling in their free time to bother.

Eren, however, didn’t seem overwhelmed by excitement like most of the others. He slid onto the bench beside Armin with a troubled frown. “What’s the MP doing here?” he asked, with no small hostility, jerking his head in the direction of the officers’ table. Armin glanced over to see Erwin engaging in polite conversation with Adler, while Levi sat stiffly on his other side and Hanji tried to maintain an air of aloofness.

“His name is Major Adler,” he said quietly, despite there being no risk of the officers hearing him across the loud room. “The Military Police want in on the balloon, apparently.”

“Figures.” Eren scowled. “They probably want to find some way to use it to keep spying on people, and keep them in the Walls.”

Armin shrugged. That seemed to be the obvious conclusion… but his mind drifted back to the overheard conversation. All three members of Command seemed to know something that Adler didn’t. Was there more to the balloon? Could Erwin have had some prior knowledge of the device and its capabilities? Was the Survey Corps involved in something bigger behind the scenes? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Erwin had set them to a task that was more than what it appeared on the surface. It was entirely possible that the balloon was just a piece in some grand political scheme… for what, Armin couldn’t guess. He racked his brain, but nothing had really been happening for so long – it could just be that Erwin was trying to squeeze some extra money out of the government, for all he knew. They certainly needed it.

“Oh yeah, I saw him before,” Sasha added, her fork actually pausing on its way to her mouth. “He was outside with the Commander, watching Armin and Hanji’s experiments.” She frowned. “He seemed… creepy.”

“He’s an MP officer, aren’t they all?” Jean muttered distastefully into his mug.

Sasha’s frown disappeared and she shot him a sly grin. “Says the guy whose childhood dream was to become one.”

He blinked and his face flushed. “Hey, that was a long time ago! Gimme a break.” He scowled at Connie, who was trying to stifle his snickering.

Eren, for once, was not laughing at Jean’s expense, but casting a wary glance over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on Armin for a moment when he turned back around, and the blonde could hazard a guess as to why he looked so bothered. With the exposure of certain covert Military Police operations before the reclamation of Maria, the bad blood between them and the Survey Corps had only worsened. Armin would feel equally uncomfortable if a high-ranking MP came to hawk over one of Eren’s projects – though perhaps with a little more cause, considering Eren’s very high-profile and controversial role. Armin, on the other hand, was essentially a random soldier who just happened to be involved. He knew saying so wouldn’t stop Eren from worrying, though, so he just nudged his elbow and tried to reassure him with a look.

The conversation meandered on to other topics. Armin tried to let himself drift along with its flow, but he found it hard to focus in on it for long. His mind insisted on filling with other things – the balloon, its engine, slight nervousness about tomorrow night, what the Military Police really wanted with the Survey Corps… and through it all, he kept imagining that he felt the prickle of an unfriendly gaze on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's a bit late since I was out most of the day yesterday and didn't have time to do my final editing passthroughs, sorry.
> 
> I hope my inclusion of an OC here isn't too off-putting. Full disclosure, he is planned to have a pretty significant role in the story, but definitely not to the point of usurping any main characters or crossing into Mary Sue territory. I hope he doesn't come off that way and that you can still find interest in this fic.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated!
> 
> Next time: A long chapter with lots of fluff and angst. Get ready for the drama to start.


	8. Wildflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin spends a day off with his friends. It's amazing what a change of pace and good company can do... and it's also amazing what the resurfacing of a buried memory can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, guys, it's a long one. Mild alcohol warning for this chapter.

Armin hurried across the training field, drawing his cardigan a little closer around himself against the slight chill in the early morning air. The strategy book from Erwin was tucked snugly under one arm. He’d woken up early and restless, and without the excuse of meeting up with Hanji, he’d grabbed a book and taken a short walk into the surrounding forest. He’d found a nice spot on a fallen log to sit and read, and he’d done so, getting so engrossed he didn’t notice the forest brightening around him until a bird swooped by his head and startled him out of his trance. The cool sunlight streaming down between the leaves had told him he’d better get going or risk worrying his friends.

Luckily, it hadn’t gotten too late. As he crossed the threshold from grass to cobblestone, headquarters was just beginning to show signs of life. Some of the senior officers, who still had shifts today, were trotting sleepily between buildings, and a few early risers were already hanging around the mess hall, or opting to skip breakfast and heading off towards the road. Armin had just settled down on the low decorative wall framing the main building’s small front yard when Mikasa emerged from the women’s barracks. He smiled at the sight of her long skirt – it was refreshing to see her in civilian clothes. Somehow, it felt so much more familiar than the stiff cut of the uniform. He glanced down at his cardigan and briefly wondered if it had the same effect on him.

She was on her way towards him anyway, so she spotted him quickly as he lifted a hand to greet her.

“Good morning,” she said, stopping before him. “Did you have a nice walk?”

He blinked. “How did you…?”

She raised an eyebrow and reached up to pluck a leaf from his shoulder.

“Oh.” He chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I did."

“Good. I’m going to wake Eren up, or he’ll sleep through breakfast. Are you coming?”

“No, you go on ahead,” he declined. “I’ll be here, I’ll try to finish my chapter.” He gestured to the book in his lap.

“Alright. We’ll be up soon,” Mikasa assured, and disappeared towards the building behind him. He flipped the book open and quickly found his place. Mikasa was much less gentle, and therefore much more effective, when it came to getting Eren out of bed – in Armin’s experience, he usually ended up trapped under a warm arm with little desire to escape it. Best to leave it to her.

He was a few paragraphs into a subsection on reconnaissance tactics when a cool voice interrupted him.

“It figures that you’d be a bookworm.”

Armin tensed and saluted instinctively as Adler stepped around the wall and stopped. It was a truly unpleasant sensation having this man sneak up on you, and Armin was careful to keep his face neutral so as not to betray the chills that had shot up his spine.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Private.” He glanced down at the book, which had fallen closed again. “Brushing up on our battle tactics, are we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How dedicated of you… and on a day off, too. I must say, I’m disappointed to have timed my visit so poorly. I was hoping to see as much of your work on the flying device as possible.”

“That is unfortunate.” Armin's voice came out a little too clipped to sound truly sympathetic.

Adler shrugged, not looking all that put off. “So it goes. Squad Leader Hanji conceded to showing me the models later. In the meantime, your Commander has much more courteously agreed to give me a tour of your facilities.” He scanned the courtyard, looking mildly amused. “This place is so very… quaint. But I suppose you don’t need much for such meager numbers.”

“We make do with what we can, sir.” He tried not to fidget, hoping the Major would be on his way soon. A familiar voice drifted to his ears, and he glanced back to see Eren swatting Mikasa’s hand away from his sleep-tousled hair as she tried to smooth it down. The two spotted him and Adler as they stepped onto the walkway and their demeanor changed immediately, Mikasa hardening as her guard went up and Eren beginning to bristle.

“Armin,” he called as they approached, drawing Adler’s attention. “Are you ready?”

Relieved for the distraction, Armin slid off the wall. “I’m sorry, sir, but if you’ll excuse me…”

But Adler was no longer looking at him. “Eren Jaeger,” he said, drawing the name out as if relishing it. “And Mikasa Ackerman. Fancy seeing you here.”

“We work here,” Eren said brusquely. “But I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Of course, forgive me.” The Major smiled his toothy smile. “I attended your tribunal five years ago, but we were never introduced. My name is Major Adler. Head of Military Police Public Affairs. A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.” He offered his hand to each of them in turn. Mikasa accepted it stonily, Eren begrudgingly. “I was just discussing with Arlert here what a shame it is that I couldn’t see more of his experiments,” he continued. “But it seems you have plans.”

“Yes, sir.” Eren’s hand fell firmly on Armin’s shoulder. “We have places to be, so…”

“My, my, aren’t you quite the trio.” He looked entertained. “Brains, brawn, and brute – the full set. I suppose that’s how you’ve been kept in line all these years, since there haven’t been any more… control incidents. I had always somewhat expected to hear that the Corporal had finally disposed of a certain unruly Titan.”

Armin felt the sudden sting of anger, and recognized it flashing in Mikasa’s eyes as well. “With all due respect,” he found himself interjecting coolly, “Private Jaeger is more dedicated to humanity’s cause than anyone I’ve ever met. The misconception is understandable given the negative bias in many interior rumors concerning his role in the war, but nobody who really knows what he’s done for humanity would mistakenly call him a brute. Sir.”

Adler turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. Armin half-expected him to get angry at the note of defiance that had slipped its way into his tone, but the Major was completely unruffled and even looked oddly pleased. Somehow, that was even more frustrating.

“Is that so. I confess, you would know better than I.”

The morning bell began to ring in the central tower and the mess hall doors swung open, admitting the small queue of soldiers that had gathered out front. It looked like a lot of others were taking Jean’s approach to the morning… but having had Levi as their drill instructor for the past few days, they couldn’t really be blamed for sleeping in.

“I’ll let you get to your day. I look forward to seeing your process tomorrow, Arlert.” Adler gave the trio a brief nod and strolled off towards the mess hall.

Armin let a tense sigh out through his nose and turned to see Eren staring at him, looking disarmed.

“What?” He asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Eren said quickly, glancing away and scratching at the back of his neck. “I… was just surprised to hear you talk back to a superior like that.”

“Oh.” Armin looked down at the cobblestone, feeling a slight heat creeping up his cheeks. “Well… it’s frustrating to hear people talk about you like you’re some kind of uncontrollable monster. They don’t even know you.”

“Yeah,” Eren agreed offhandedly, but when Armin glanced up, he didn’t look all that upset. “Thanks, I mean.”

Mikasa heaved an exasperated sigh into her scarf, took each of them by the shoulder, and steered them to the mess hall.

\--

They set out right away after a light breakfast, only stopping so Armin could drop his book back off in the barracks. And despite their unpleasant encounter with Adler, he was almost surprised at how quickly the incident seemed to fade into irrelevance in the back of his mind. They chatted aimlessly as they made their way to their first stop in Solfeld, where Armin had to convince the flabbergasted tailor that yes, the amount of silk and thread indicated on the scrap paper was in fact correct, and yes, the Survey Corps would be sure to cover the expenses, as the official seal attested. He had less trouble with the chemist, who seemed used to Hanji’s seemingly bizarre requests. “Heck, that one keeps me in business!” She chuckled as she marked down the order.

“Sorry for the detour,” Armin apologized as they exited the shop. They were limited by how far they could walk, as they didn’t have permission to take out the horses, and the trip on foot had already eaten up a chunk of the morning.

“Don’t apologize,” Eren dismissed. “I’m just glad this is all you have to do. Instead of getting called in for the day, I mean,” he clarified. Mikasa nodded her agreement.

“It doesn’t really matter where we go,” she added, “and we’ll be back here tonight anyway, so it works out. A town called Lufthaven just finished rebuilding pretty close to here. We should be able to get there in about half an hour if we stay on the road.”

They reached the town a little later than Mikasa had predicted, having walked at a leisurely pace. It was a small town nestled in the woods, and they found a nice little teahouse with a terrace out back under a leafy canopy, where they had lunch. Afterwards, they wandered up to the tiny main street, peering into the few humble storefronts and taking in the town. The buildings were fresh and new, the stones clean and the wood unweathered, and the townspeople who went about their business were cheerful and friendly. The place was small enough that new faces stood out, and the residents cast curious glances at the unfamiliar trio. One elderly woman approached them as they admired a modest garden in the small town square – more a patch of flowers than anything – and asked if they were from the nearby military base.

“Yes, ma’am,” Armin answered respectfully.

“Now which branch was that, again?” She asked, peering at them closely.

“The Survey Corps.” There was a note of proud defiance in Eren’s voice when he responded.

The old woman eyed them and for a moment Armin worried that they were about to get an earful for wasting taxpayer money or carelessly throwing away too many lives – complaints that were making a resurgence now that the glory of Maria’s reclamation had passed.

“I always thought you people were off your rockers, throwing yourselves to the Titans like that,” she said, and his heart sank. He preemptively pinched Eren’s sleeve as she continued. “Never knew why you couldn’t be content to just make a life for yourself. But…” Her face relaxed into a wide, crinkled smile. “Without you, we never could have resettled this village… my home. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

She turned to leave. Eren looked about as moved as Armin felt when they met each other’s eyes. Mikasa tugged her scarf up to her nose.

“Ma’am.” Eren said politely, recovering his voice first. She paused and looked back. “We _are_ making a life for ourselves.” His voice was confident. “And for all of humanity. We’re fighting so the Titans don’t ever force anyone out of their homes again. We’re fighting for freedom. For a _future._ ”

The old woman gave a wistful smile. “The future alone can only sustain you for so long. I hope you don’t forget that.”

“I haven’t,” Eren replied seriously.

Her words lingered in Armin’s mind long after she had departed and the trio had begun to explore a narrow, slightly overgrown path into the surrounding forest. As he listened to the good-natured bickering of his two best friends, something inside him felt so much lighter. He suddenly regretted spending so much time shut away in a musty basement room surrounded by stiff, fragile pages instead of out here in the warmth of these living, breathing people. These _people_ who could be snatched away from him at any time, who were here trying to make the best of what they had while he had been too caught up in his own head to do anything but sit and brood. He was so _stupid._ Even if he never saw the ocean, a crucial part of his dream was right here. He kicked himself for letting his cynicism get the best of him, and resolved to make up for how much he must have worried his friends. He was not going to let anything get in the way of enjoying his day with them.

Almost like he knew what Armin was thinking, Eren took his hand and gave him a small, soft smile, catching Mikasa’s hand on the other side. They walked three abreast like that despite the narrow wooded trail, but Eren didn’t seem to mind the slightly cramped quarters of their arms pressing and bumping against his own. He radiated warmth, and Armin drank it in. People tended to assume that Eren’s high body temperature was a side effect of his Titan shifting, but he’d always run hot, even long before gaining that ability. Armin knew. Armin remembered. Eren’s warmth was a fever that had swept into his life, caught him up in a mad rush of enthusiasm that stomped out his loneliness, and never let him go.

They rounded a corner and suddenly a field of wildflowers stretched out before them, an expanse of yellows and purples that rolled like waves in the gentle breeze. The sight took Armin’s breath away. He realized how much he had _missed_ flowers during the winter, when the ground was cold and hard and unforgiving. There had never been many around base, anyway – the fields were kept bare for training and other practical uses, with no need of superfluous plants.

“I’ve been here before,” Eren realized aloud. Armin and Mikasa looked over at him and his eyes were distant, caught up in some far-off memory visible to him alone. “I didn’t recognize it at first – the town’s a lot smaller than it used to be, and I think it was called something else then, too. But I came here with… We came here for a checkup. I found this field when I got bored of waiting and went running off like a brat.” The corners of his mouth were tugging as he fought back an amused smile. “It was all in bloom back then, too.”

Armin looked back at the field and pictured it – little Eren, running knee-deep through the flowers, crouching to shovel through the dirt looking for interesting bugs, or gathering a haphazard bouquet, equal parts weeds and flowers, to bring home to his mother. He’d seen that image so many times in so many fields it might as well have been his own memory. The warm nostalgia drew him in and he found himself taking half a step forward, a delicate yellow flower brushing the front of his trouser leg. He looked back at the other two links in the chain, a silent question, and they followed in wordless agreement, and suddenly Eren was charging forward with a yell, dragging both of them along by the hands. Surprised, he stumbled along just to stay on his feet, but suddenly Mikasa’s voice joined Eren’s, and a wave of emotion crashed into Armin as he realized just how long it had been since the three of them had been really alone together like this, somewhere away from the constant reminders of work and violence and bloodshed, where maybe they could pretend that things were like they used to be. A voice in his brain whispered that they were too worn and bloodstained to go back, that it was absurd for grown soldiers to run screaming in circles for no reason. It wouldn’t fix anything, it wouldn’t help anything. It was a pathetic attempt at reclaiming something lost long ago, and no matter how hard they tried to pretend, it would never amount to anything more than a shallow façade.

Armin sucked in the air that had rushed out of him, and he let go.

\--

Eventually they ran themselves out and collapsed amongst the flowers, gasping for breath – even Mikasa looked a little winded. Armin leaned back on his palms, feeling the grass and dirt beneath his skin, and looked up at the sky, at the full cotton clouds on a perfect blue backdrop. He felt the beat of his heart thundering through his chest and he felt _good._ He felt _alive._ He felt almost intoxicated by the sweet scent of the wildflowers, which would make a convenient excuse for the giddiness that had caught him up in a way he almost hadn’t thought was possible anymore. But as his gaze dropped back down to earth, to Mikasa looking more serene than he’d seen her in ages, to Eren unrestrained and beautiful, he knew it really had nothing to do with the flowers. He couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face as he looked at them – it didn’t matter that the edge of the Wall was still just slightly visible over the tops of the trees, because right now, in this one moment, he felt genuinely happy. Eren caught his eye and grinned back at him.

“That was fun,” he said simply, still slightly breathless, and Armin nodded his agreement and looked away to examine the flowers beside him instead. They were daffodils – he didn’t think he’d ever seen so many in one place. He lifted a hand and gently traced the delicate edge of a petal with the pad of his thumb, admiring the vibrant yellow color and the dainty curve of the cup, like a trumpet heralding the spring. When he glanced back up, Eren was still looking at him, but his grin had softened into something more subdued, something more private, like he wasn’t conscious of his own expression.

“W-what?” Armin stammered reflexively, caught off-guard at finding himself on the receiving end of such a stare.

“Hm? Oh, nothing.” Eren came out of his reverie and shook his head. “I was just remembering something stupid. They’re pretty, aren’t they?” He plucked a tiny lavender crocus from the ground beside him and twirled it absently between his fingers.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful. I feel kind of bad for running around through them so much.”

“Ah, yeah…” Eren looked sheepishly at the trail of bent flower stalks that marked their paths.

“They’ll be okay. Plants are sturdy,” Mikasa assured. She sneezed. “Excuse me.”

“The ones that just got bent, sure. I dunno about the ones that got crushed, though…” Armin gave her a wry smile.

In response, she turned a flat stare to Eren.

“Oh, come on,” Eren grumbled. “You didn’t have to body-check me _that_ hard.”

“Nobody messes with my scarf. Not even you.” The menacing effect was somewhat ruined when another sneeze punctuated her sentence. Two more followed in quick succession.

Armin blinked at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her wrist across her reddening nose. “I think it’s just all the pollen.”

“Maybe we’d better go, then—” Eren frowned in concern and made to get up, but she held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay. Let’s stay here a little longer.”

“Are you sure? But if you’re uncomfortable...” Armin worried.

She shook her head. “It’s not that bad. Really.”

He glanced at Eren, who shrugged. “Alright… Just let us know if it gets worse, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded seriously.

Armin thought he could understand how she felt… he probably would’ve done the same, in her shoes. It almost seemed like, when they left this field, the spell would break. For the moment, here, alone, they could forget the world and pretend, just for a little while, to be innocent, to be whole. They could be silly, they could be vulnerable. For just a little while, in the solace of this secret field cradled in the woods, they could just _be._

“Who would’ve thought that the invincible Mikasa’s weakness would be a bunch of flowers?” Eren teased, with a smug smirk.

She looked at him evenly. “You want to test that?”

“Um… no, I’d feel bad for crushing more flowers when I knock you down. Let’s give them a break.”

“Sure.” Mikasa rolled her eyes and the edges of her lips twitched slightly. “Stay here,” she ordered, standing up and traipsing off towards one edge of the field. As the boys watched her curiously, the sight of her receding figure triggered something in Armin’s memory.

“Oh, right,” he said, looking back at Eren. “Remember a few days ago, when Hanji and I had our first test flight – you brought us water, right?”

“Uh huh?”

“Why were you stocking the woodshed then? I thought you were on kitchen duty that day.” It was just a little thing, but he was curious. Eren hated kitchen duty, but Levi was so strict about scheduling, it was unlikely that he’d somehow managed to swap out.

“Oh…” Eren averted his eyes, looking a little nervous. “Uh… Levi changed the schedule.”

He furrowed his brow. That was even _less_ likely than getting to swap out. The only times the Corporal changed the schedule was when it was to assign double-duty to cover for a sick or injured soldier… wait.

“You… have you been picking up my shifts?” He asked, his heart plummeting.

“It’s not just me!” Eren scrambled to reassure him. “Mikasa has, too, and the others depending on who has the more flexible chores.”

“I never even thought… Eren, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to load you with extra work…”

He shook his head vehemently. “Armin, really, don’t apologize. You’ve been busy with way more important things that we probably couldn’t even wrap our heads around… This is the least we can do to help.”

Armin bit his lip against the confused mess of guilt and affection swirling inside his chest. As bad as he felt for making others do work that was rightfully his, another part of him was moved that his friends were so willing to take it on. As if sensing his conflict, Eren plowed ahead.

“I mean, what you’re doing is actually going to make a huge impact on the war,” he said. “A few extra days of woodcutting or stable-mucking is nothing. Really. Just think…” he glanced down, then held the crocus in his hand out to Armin. “Just think what kinds of flowers we’ll get to see outside.”

Armin smiled despite himself, flooding with helpless warmth. “Yeah,” he replied weakly, giving in and accepting the flower. Their fingers brushed as he did so. “I bet we’ll find lots of new ones that don’t grow inside the Walls.”

Eren gave an encouraging smile. “We can carry a book with us, to press them in. We’ll keep track of all the different kinds.”

“We’d probably need a lot more than one book, in that case,” Armin considered seriously. “The outside has got to be big enough for thousands of different flower types, at _least_.”

“You’re right.” The brunette mulled this over for a moment. “We’ll just have to bring a whole wagon full of flower books.”

Armin made a face and was about to object as to why that was impractical for the purpose of multi-terrain exploration, when a half-rotten log thumped unceremoniously to the ground between them. Startled, they looked up to see Mikasa standing over them.

“I saw it earlier,” she said by way of explanation. When they just stared at her in confusion, she gave an almost imperceptible sigh. “There were lots of weird bugs crawling on it. I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh.” Eren snorted. “Thanks, Mikasa.” He and Armin exchanged a fond grin over the log. Mikasa settled back down in her previous spot, and looked between them expectantly. Not wanting to disappoint her, Armin leaned forward and examined the soft wood. Sure enough, it was teeming with ants of various sizes, a few tiny spiders, and…

“Oh, look,” he said, pointing to a small, oblong creature covered in tiers of gray, defensive armor. “It’s a pill bug… well, it’s commonly called a bug, but it’s actually considered closer to a crab than a bug or an insect. When they’re startled, they curl up into a little ball like this, see?...”

\--

“You’re late!” Connie accused when they finally arrived at their meeting place, where the main road led into Solfeld.

“Sorry,” Armin apologized sheepishly. “We lost track of time.” The afternoon had begun to wane when Mikasa had a particularly violent outburst of sneezes that made them realize how much time had passed, and they had to hurry in order to make it back. Luckily, she had recovered quickly once they were back out on the road.

“It’s okay, there’s not really any rush,” Sasha reassured – rather unconvincingly, considering how much she was fidgeting.

“Yeah, not like we were sitting here starving or anything,” Jean snarked.

“Aww, did little Jeanbo sleep through breakfast _and_ lunch?” Teased Eren.

“If I had, you can bet I wouldn’t have stuck around here waiting for _your_ slow asses.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of grazing room.” Eren gestured to the soft tufts of grass at their feet. Jean opened his mouth to retort, but Connie cut him off.

“Come _on,_ guys, you can argue on the way. I’m hungry!” He and Sasha took the lead and Jean fell in beside the trio as they made their way through Solfeld’s bustling streets. This town was much bigger and livelier than Lufthaven. It was always strange to be surrounded by so much noise and human activity after getting used to the comparatively isolated life on a small military base.

“So you managed to sleep in, huh?” Armin asked, glancing up at Jean.

“Yep,” the taller boy replied smugly. “Actually, I almost _did_ miss lunch. I only woke up on time because one of the juniors, er… didn’t realize I was still there.” He grimaced at the memory.

Eren snorted. “That’s one thing I sure as hell don’t miss about the barracks.”

“Yeah, we’re all very jealous,” he grumbled. The sun disappeared as they turned down a side street. “Anyway, you know how the food is there on days off. Like… the bare minimum. I might as well have skipped it.”

“Sorry again,” Armin repeated guiltily, but Jean brushed him off.

“It’s really no big deal. But you’re usually so punctual. It must’ve been nice to let yourself get caught up in something, huh, flower boy?”

Armin blinked in confusion for a moment before remembering the tiny lavender crocus tucked into his breast pocket. He’d realized when they’d left the field that he was still holding onto it, and somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to drop it. He caught Eren glancing at him in his peripheral vision, and hoped the shade masked the heat he felt rising to his cheeks.

“Oh—”

“This is it!” Sasha exclaimed, and he thanked her internally for drawing the attention away from him just then.

They stood in a dim side-street in front of a nondescript doorway. The only thing to identify it as a shop entrance and not just some random backdoor was the wooden sign tacked above the threshold, which read “Bluebird.” Beneath the carved letters was a simple, featureless engraving of a bird in flight.

“This?” Jean asked, sounding about as skeptical as Armin felt. “Are you sure this is a tavern and not some black market hideout?”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Sasha scoffed. “It’s way too cheap to be black market. Now let’s go!” Without hesitation, she and Connie went right in. Armin exchanged a dubious glance with his friends, and they followed up the low, worn steps.

The moment he was through the door, he was nearly bowled over by the warm, comforting fragrance of home-cooked food mingled with the headier scent of alcohol. It was far cozier and homier than the dingy façade would indicate, and it was already fairly crowded for so early in the evening – the air was filled with the warm sounds of clinking tableware and boisterous laughter. The place was simple, mostly plain tables and chairs with a few booths around the perimeter, but the little personal touches like homemade candles placed around the room, or the hand-stitched padding on the booth benches, lent it a kind of elegance. Armin felt immediately at ease.

A woman cleaning glasses at the bar looked up as they entered, and she broke into a broad grin. “Sasha! Connie!” She called over the background noise. “I was wondering when I’d see your faces again!”

Sasha bounced over. “We came back as soon as we could, Greta!” She beamed. “And we brought friends this time, too, to spread the gospel of your magnificent establishment far and wide!”

Greta laughed and turned to smile at the rest of the group. “Well, any friends of Sasha and Connie are more than welcome here. Now that your expectations are up so high, we’ll do our best not to disappoint you. Why don’t I get you some drinks, and you can make yourselves comfortable in that booth in the back corner?”

“I stand corrected,” Jean said solemnly as they approached the bar. “I’ll never judge by appearances again.”

As they maneuvered their way across the room, Armin caught little snippets of conversation from the tables they passed.

“…I dunno, with this harvest? Things’re gonna get kinda tight, even more’n last year I reckon…”

“…But the thing is, they’re not considering the finer implications of that kind of behavior. There’s definitely going to be some kind of lasting damage…”

“God, I miss the interior.” Armin couldn’t help glancing over at that last one, and saw a young brunette woman sulking over a drink across from a starry-eyed youth. “I can’t believe I got reassigned to this dump…” She was in civilian clothes, but her attitude was unmistakably reminiscent of the Military Police. If she was an MP, though, this was an odd place for her to be – their outpost was stationed in Starkhut, which was closer to Shiganshina. Maybe they were branching out.

The group settled in with their drinks at the specified booth, the padded bench encircling a round table. Sasha, Connie, and Eren had chosen the house beer, while Jean had opted for wine. “What?” He’d defended at Connie’s smirk. “If I came all this way to go drinking, I’d rather splurge and have something classy,” he sniffed, to which Sasha had replied threateningly that he’d better not disrespect Greta’s beer.

Mikasa planted herself firmly between Eren and Jean. Armin found himself on Eren’s other side, and Connie and Sasha sat across from each other on the ends. It was a little bit of a tight fit around the small table, but it was comfortable enough.

“To days off and good friends!” Connie toasted, raising his tankard with a grin. Five other voices chimed in with agreement as they lifted their respective drinks.

“And to Armin!” Sasha added, throwing the blonde beside her a wink. “To the success of his project, our victory, and all the future livestock that will come from it!”

Armin reddened. “That’s really not necessary…”

“Oh, just accept it, would you?” Jean interjected, rolling his eyes.

He pressed his lips together. “Fine, then.” He raised his mug a little higher and countered with his own toast. “To all of you, for helping to pick up my shifts… thanks.”

“Oh, you found out about that, huh?” Sasha looked sheepish and Jean turned an accusing stare to Eren.

“Any time, buddy. Cheers!” Connie cried, and they drank. Armin took a long draught of his water to hide his embarrassment, pretending not to notice Eren grinning at him.

They fell into a lively chatter, conversation roaming easily from one topic to the next, diverging and re-converging and punctuated by the occasional toast. How had everyone spent their time off? Sasha and Connie had spent the day in Solfeld, wandering the shops, exploring back alleys, and making friends with locals in their quest for other hidden gems like Bluebird. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin had roamed around in the woods (as if in some unspoken agreement, none of them mentioned the flower field). Jean was begrudgingly coaxed into admitting that after lunch he’d sat outside and sketched. He’d also ended up running into Adler, who’d struck up some scathing conversation with him for an uncomfortable while. Oops, the serving girl was here already – what did Sasha and Connie recommend from the menu? There was a delicious vegetable and rice dish, scraps of duck meat cooked with fresh greens and complimented by a baked potato, salads that actually tasted good thanks to the delicious homemade dressing… the list went on long enough that it was hard to believe the duo had only been there once and weren’t regular customers. The serving girl departed with their orders, and the conversation resumed. Would Jean ever let them see his fabled sketchbook? Not even if they paid him. Your nose is kinda red, Mikasa, are you actually sick for once? No. It was a bug bite. Speaking of sick, whatever happened to Hanji's and Erwin’s rumored bet over whether Levi could physically sense the presence of dirt…?

Maybe it was the change of scenery or the effects of the pleasant day, but Armin found himself more engaged than he had felt in months of their mess hall conversations. Smiles came easier, and his brain wasn’t interjecting with thoughts of work or dragging him down into cynical contemplation. Even Mikasa looked more relaxed than usual, and Eren’s brow was free of its typical serious furrow. The atmosphere was warm, friendly, and comforting.

When their food arrived, it was every bit as delicious as Sasha had promised. The dishes were simple but expertly garnished to be rich in flavor. Compared to the often bland military cooking they got on base, it was heaven, and Armin was glad he’d decided to come.

“Wow, Jean, are you that weak against alcohol?” Eren laughed. Jean’s cheeks were already tinged pink, and they flushed further as he retorted.

“Oh, shaddup, I barely ate today,” he protested. “And wine is stronger than that pisswater you drink. I have an excuse… Hey!”

Eren reached around Mikasa’s plate to grab Jean’s newly-refilled glass, and took a swig. He gagged.

“Okay, I take it back. That is strong.” He made a face as Jean reclaimed his beverage with a scowl. “Maria, how can you drink that? It tastes like rotten grapes.”

Sasha and Connie were noisily appreciating their food, and Armin was only half-listening. He had no place in alcohol-related conversations, and was a little distracted by Eren shifting against his side as he bickered animatedly with Jean. Armin might have been taking advantage of the booth’s close quarters a little, but Eren didn’t seem bothered by it, so he’d enjoy it while he could.

“Clearly _someone_ has no concept of quality,” Jean was scoffing. “But I guess I can’t expect much else out of _you._ ” He turned to Mikasa with a confident grin. “C’mon, Mikasa, tell him – you’ve got class. Isn’t wine way better than beer?”

She turned a flat gaze to him for a long moment. He began to falter.

“Alcohol is overrated,” she said finally, and took a bite of her duck.

Jean cast around, desperate for someone to agree with him. “A-Armin, what about you?” He called across the table, but Armin could only shrug.

“Sorry, Jean, I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh… You want to try some?” He offered hopefully, holding out his glass.

“No, thanks.”

The conversation had attracted Connie’s attention. He was also on his second round, and was significantly redder than Jean. “Yeah, Armin, you sure? This beer ‘s good. Great for unwinding after a long couple weeks.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You guys enjoy, though.”

“Oh, right. You don’t drink.” Jean deflated. His brow furrowed. “Wait, have you ever?”

“Um…” Armin cast around for a way to divert the conversation, but Connie spoke up first.

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Armin drink, either.”

Sasha looked up. “Hm? No, he has. I remember. When was it…”

“Come on, guys, it’s really not important…”

“Oh, right! It was when we reclaimed Maria!”

Armin felt his heart plummet into his chest. The space between Sasha and Eren suddenly felt much too small, and he was very, very aware of every point along his side that was in contact with Eren. He refused to look in that direction.

“Ohh, right!” Jean remembered, while Connie frowned, racking his brains.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Connie, you don’t remember _anything_ from that night.” Sasha laughed.

“I guess you’re right… Damn, I’m sorry I missed that!”

“There really wasn’t anything _to_ miss…” Armin mumbled, staring at his half-eaten food.

“I dunno, Armin,” Jean sounded amused. “You were really energetic. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking so openly _happy._ ”

“Right?” Sasha agreed. “Your eyes were all sparkly and everything!”

Armin wished he could just sink into the bench and disappear. He could feel Mikasa’s eyes on him, but Eren had gone perfectly still beside him, silent. That silence crept into his bones, dried them out until he felt brittle and frail, that stillness wrapped its fingers around his windpipe and squeezed and squeezed. He needed to move. He forced a smile.

“Excuse me, Sasha, could you let me out? I need the washroom.” The words came out so smoothly even he wouldn’t have believed he felt anything other than fine. He was thankful for that, at least.

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Sasha moved to let him off the bench. “It’s back there, right around that corner,” she said helpfully, pointing. The cheerful conversation resumed behind him as he hurried away, refusing to look back.

Safely shut in the tiny washroom, Armin leaned heavily on the basin and took a few deep, shaky breaths. He could deal with attempts to push drinks on him, but why, _why_ did they have to bring that up? He reminded himself that it was completely innocent on their part – just a silly memory and a slightly embarrassed friend. And he was going to let the moment pass, then go back out like everything was just fine, and spend the rest of the night acting completely normal despite the heavy weight that had settled into his stomach. And hopefully… that would be enough.

But as Armin glanced up into the mirror mounted on the wall his eyes caught on the slightly wilted lavender flower still tucked into his breast pocket, and the sight was like a sudden punch to the gut. His reflection blurred as tears began to well up in his eyes. He didn’t _deserve_ that flower, not when every casual touch sent tiny thrills rippling through his skin, not when he ached for every private smile and reveled in every gesture of intimacy. Not when all his efforts to forget were really efforts to cover up his deepest shame. Not when part of him didn’t even _want_ to forget. That part was even worse.

He plucked the flower from his shirt and stared down at it bitterly. He had no right to this. His fingers tightened around the fragile stem and he reached out, holding it over the dark maw of the drain. The tiny lavender petals drooped, innocent even in the face of their fate. It was only a flower, tiny and insignificant. There must have been hundreds of them just in that field alone. He should just let it go, let an old rusty pipe consume it, because he could never go back out and face Eren with it displayed so shamelessly now that he’d remembered what he was. He should just let it go.

But his fingers refused to loosen their hold on the flower, no matter how many times he berated himself. He couldn’t do it. He was weak. He was weak and he was awful and he knew that was never going to change. He slipped the flower into his pants pocket, scrubbed the tears roughly from his eyes, and hated himself.

Sasha made to get up when he returned to the table, but he held out a hand to stop her.

“No, you don’t have to move – you can just pass me my plate,” he said, sliding in at the end.

“Oh, sure,” she said, blinking in surprise, but she did so. He was dully surprised that he didn’t have less food than when he’d left – Mikasa must have kept Sasha at bay. Armin appreciated the thought, although he didn’t have much of an appetite left. He still couldn’t bring himself to look in Eren’s direction.

He had hoped that the previous topic of conversation would’ve been forgotten by the time he got back, but Connie grinned slyly across the table at him.

“Hey, buddy, I just got a refill,” he began, and Armin’s heart sank. “You sure you don’t wanna—”

“Connie. Let him be.”

Mikasa’s voice cut sharply through Connie’s words and he glanced at her in surprise.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, and looked back at Armin with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He chanced a grateful look at Mikasa. She was watching him with veiled concern, and beside her Eren was knocking back the last of his drink, then turning to spit some words at Jean with a bit more hostility than usual. His attention wasn’t on Armin at all – Armin didn’t know if what he felt at that was relief or despair.

The rest of the night seemed to drag on and on. Armin smiled when someone looked at him, laughed at the appropriate times, and responded when addressed, but his previous good mood had fled him. He felt heavy and suffocated, like his ribcage had filled up with sand. All he wanted was to go back to base, and hope that sleep’s tide would carry his discomfort and his guilt back into the recesses of his mind where he tried to keep it. And if it didn’t… at least he’d have work to distract him in the morning. Right… work on the balloon that everyone was counting on him to complete. Work that Eren, that everyone, was sacrificing their own time for so he could complete it. Something stretched taut inside him, and he felt sick.

Finally, it was time to go. Greta gave them a hearty farewell, assuring them that they were all welcome back any time. They spilled out the door and suddenly the group’s laughter seemed much too loud in the still night air of the alley. Armin gratefully inhaled the cool darkness, not feeling quite so cornered anymore. He fell to the back of the herd, following automatically as his thoughts consumed him.

They had stayed out too late, and once they passed the border of Solfeld the road would be dark. Luckily, the moon was bright enough even through the thin layer of clouds to cast its eerie glow across the landscape. The gravel crunched underfoot. Behind the raucous voices was the constant shrill noise of frogs and insects. Sasha and Connie were laughing together, and Eren and Jean were bickering, growing more belligerent. Mikasa kept them in line with the occasional curt reminder. Armin walked in silence, listening without really hearing. He felt drained. The day’s activities had caught up to him and his body started to flag, not helped by his mental exhaustion. The noise was giving him a headache. But he noticed that Mikasa glanced back to check on him every so often, so he refused to let himself fall farther behind where it was quieter. He looked up at the sky. The moon illuminated the clouds from behind, like smooth strokes of paint done in grayscale.

Base had just come into view, marked by the silhouette of the central tower protruding over the dark shape of the forest, when they heard the bell for lights out clanging in the distance. Connie screeched in dismay and took off running down the dirt path, and Sasha cackled and followed suit.

“Bed check tonight is later, you dopes!” Jean shouted after them.

Sasha’s voice drifted back through the night. “You just know you can’t beat us there, Jeanbo!”

He gave an indignant squawk. “We’ll see about that!” He yelled back, and took off after them.

“Don’t blame me if you fall and smash your face in,” Mikasa muttered to nobody, and then the three of them were alone. The sudden silence that filled the empty space between them was somehow more earsplitting than the noise had been. Armin felt himself tensing up again and tried not to let it show in his posture. For a while the only sounds were their footsteps and the distant echoes of revelers. This was not the same kind of easy, comfortable silence of this afternoon. Eren was too quiet, too stiff, and his silence was a physical weight on Armin. Mikasa was refraining from speaking, probably afraid of causing this strange tension to snap.

Before long, they reached the courtyard. A few other stragglers were still hanging around, chatting and laughing, taking advantage of the little bit of extra leeway they were granted on days off. The trio came to a halt and stood there awkwardly, needing to part but unable to find the words without acknowledging the rift. Mikasa was the one to finally break the silence.

“Today was fun.” She spoke firmly, looking between Eren and Armin as if determined that the words could patch over whatever had gone wrong between them. And somehow, her simple statement felt like it might help, even just a little. Armin tried to focus on that, to focus on this afternoon, on how simple and pleasant it had been.

“Yeah… let’s do it again next time,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. He made himself look over at Eren, and when he did his breath stuttered to a halt.

Eren was looking towards him but not meeting his eyes, gaze hovering somewhere around Armin’s shoulder instead. There was a bitter, undisguised disappointment mapped out on his face, brows drawn in and lips downturned.

“Yeah. G’night.” He turned abruptly on his heel and stalked away towards the main building.

Armin turned, too, and started rigidly toward the barracks, trying to make his burning lungs work again. He felt the feather-light touch of Mikasa’s hand on his shoulder.

“Armin,” she said, and now, with nobody else around, her concern was clear as day.

He managed a shallow breath. “It’s fine,” he said tightly.

“ _Stop_ that.” There was the slight hint of anger in her voice, and hurt. “Look, Armin, I _know_ —”

A loud, tinny clanging cut her off and they looked around startled, only to see Levi standing in the center of the courtyard with a pot and a metal spoon. He stopped banging and glared around at the stragglers.

“Alright, slackers, you’ve had your fun,” he barked. “Now get your asses to bed, you have drills in the morning! Slowpokes get extra laps, hangovers be damned.” He banged on the pot again for good measure. “Scram!”

“Goodnight, Mikasa,” Armin said, shakily forcing a smile. She pinched her lips together, reluctantly stepping away.

“Tomorrow,” she promised, giving him a pointed look before heading off towards the women’s barracks.

Armin filtered into his own building with the few other soldiers and made his way to his bedside in the dark, thigh colliding with a bedpost in his lack of caution. Connie was already snoring loudly on the other side of the room. Armin sat heavily down on his own bed, fatigue washing over him. He stared listlessly at the dark shapes of his knees. Eren’s expression swam into his vision, an accusation that Armin couldn’t answer with anything but guilt. To actually see that fact acknowledged outside of his own mind, to have it confirmed so tangibly, hurt worse than any beating he’d ever taken, even though it had been a long time coming. It cut to the bone, but suddenly he was too numb to feel it.

He pulled the little flower out of his pocket and looked down at it wearily. It was wilted and a little crumpled, but still whole.

That’s right, he reminded himself dully. Nothing had _really_ changed. Nothing had really _happened,_ except for the resurgence of an unfortunate memory. It had put them both on edge for a while, but tomorrow… tomorrow, things would be back to normal. Armin would go on pretending. Eren would overlook it again, hopefully. Eventually they would settle back into their dynamic and the discomfort would fade, just like before. They were best friends, after all. That above anything else. They would be fine. Mikasa had nothing to worry about.

Standing stiffly, he quietly slid open the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out his heaviest book, letting it fall open to somewhere in the middle. Carefully, he placed the flower flat against the right-hand page. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, he could see the petals resting on a backdrop of smooth, inky waves, the stem nestled in a soil of simple black letters.

He smiled in bitter amusement. So much trouble over such a tiny flower. But it was going to be fine. They were going to be fine. They had a promise, after all.

Armin closed the book, and let exhaustion claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I can't write anything without it turning cheesy as fuck. At least this one had some angst to hopefully balance it out.
> 
> Another late posting, sorry - I've been insanely busy with Eremin event stuff and haven't had time to work on this fic at all the past two weeks. Luckily, I ended up splitting the following chapter into two, so I'm still on task with keeping my buffer intact and was able to post this.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed this fluffy/angsty chapter! Hopefully it doesn't come off as overly melodramatic. Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated~


	9. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin remembers. (NSFW warning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional chapter warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Sexual Content

_Someone starts a cheer in one corner of the room and the sound swells, rippling out from its source and gathering in a crescendo as it catches other voices in its contagion. The mess hall is packed and sweltering, most of the tables pushed to the perimeter of the room. The cleared central space houses a throng of bodies, pulsing like a living organism. The air smells of sweat and beer, and something unidentifiable but somehow unmistakably human. Everyone is talking and laughing, and all the voices raised together are deafening, so everyone talks and laughs even louder to be heard._

_Armin has never been to such a celebration. He’s never had much_ to _celebrate, for one thing. Only birthdays, really, and before the Fall of Maria, those were always a small affair – him and his grandpa and the Jaegers, mostly, when his parents couldn’t make it. Later, Mikasa too. He doesn’t think he’s celebrated anything since the Fall except graduation, and that was nothing like this. Graduation was a blanket of relief over a layer of trepidation. This… this is joy, and grief, and camaraderie. This is_ victory. _This is_ hope.

_Other places are celebrating now, too, undoubtedly. Pubs and taverns are surely bursting with life and laughter all throughout the Walls tonight as the citizens revel in the news of the reclamation of their land, the biggest victory yet against the Titans. But the mere hundred or so in this room, in this military base, rejoice all the fiercer for the aching wound in their numbers. Those who are lost are not forgotten, never forgotten. Tonight, the bittersweet laughter in the air fills their empty spaces with the fruit of their sacrifice. Tonight, the living allow themselves to live as their thanks, and their offering, to the dead. And so they live, reminiscing on the past but also looking to the future, which seems so much brighter now. They live, and they talk, and they laugh, and they drink._

_Armin is drinking, too. He has heard others complaining that the alcohol is weak, but – perhaps it is because of his small physique, his relative inexperience, or because he had already felt half-drunk on his disbelief – he is already feeling its warmth spreading its tendrils through his ribcage. He has never had this much before, only a few cautious sips, but it is not like he has been lead to believe. He doesn’t feel the urge to jump up and dance on a table like Connie is doing across the room, nor to fling himself into the arms of the first attractive soldier he sees. He would rather like to fling himself into_ Eren’s _arms, but to be honest, that’s really nothing new. He feels like himself, just more open and happy than he’s felt in years. He allows himself to lean affectionately against Mikasa beside him, their arms twined companionably. Soldiers he’s barely spoken to grin at him as they jostle their way by, and he grins right back._

 _He knows that reclaiming Maria was only the first step to true freedom. Their job won’t be done, they won’t_ really _have made it, until he’s standing side-by-side with Eren and Mikasa before the ocean. The still-recent loss of Shiganshina stings at the back of his mind, a looming uncertainty, but for now he pushes it away. For just one night, he wants to forget his cynicism and his worries and just enjoy what they have managed to accomplish. So he allows himself to get swept up in the revelry, because the grueling first step is done. They’ve reclaimed their lost territory, and their next expedition will truly be_ outside. _He’ll gallop on his horse over free terrain, breathe free air – what will he be able to see on the horizon without a Wall to obstruct his view? And after that, it will only be a matter of time. He imagines he can almost smell the salt on a fresh wind, and he smiles. That thought alone, so much more tangible than it was a year ago, is already enough to make him dizzy._

_He and Mikasa are sitting at one of the tables on the periphery, turned out towards the crowd. She isn’t drinking – not really, anyway, the occasional sips she steals from Armin’s beer don’t count. He guesses it’s the crowd – the place is too packed, too rowdy, for her to really let her guard down. She needs to stay alert, keep tabs on Eren whenever he reappears from wherever some of the officers whisked him off to so they could shower him with drunken cheers. But she is content with this, for now. Armin can see it in her calm dark eyes as she watches her fellow soldiers in their exaltation. The two of them sit in comfortable silence, mostly, observing, unless someone talks to them first. Jean comes by, grinning and red-faced, then Sasha, supporting a staggering Connie. They share laughter, congratulations, a more somber moment as they toast, Jean’s eyes going briefly glassy. Then the conversation turns to the future and they share plans that are too hopeful, but nobody points that out._

_Eventually, the officers track them down again and it’s Mikasa’s turn to be dragged away for accolades. Armin catches her barely-perceptible grimace and he gives her a wry smile of sympathy. But tonight, she plays along, resigning herself to their boisterous, good-natured pestering. She disappears into the masses. Sasha and Jean are cackling over something Connie said as he leans heavily into Sasha, his flushed face buried against her neck. Armin suddenly feels restless. He stands and squeezes his way into the crowd, leaving the rest of his drink on the table. He still feels good, he still feels like himself – but the lamplight is beginning to take on a pleasant haze, so he gets the sense he should probably stop there. Sasha will happily take care of what he’d left._

_It is sweltering amongst the constant press of bodies. He has to shoulder his way through the crowd of larger people, some of whom try to move out of his path, while others are too caught up in their shouted conversations to even notice him. Eventually Armin makes it to the door. Soldiers are spilling into the adjoining hallway, but their numbers are thinner here. He weaves through the hall, quickly averting his eyes from the occasional couple he sees pinned in a corner or off in the shadows of an alcove. He feels a pang of envy, more distinct than usual._

_Emerging from the hallway into the inner courtyard is like the plunge into a lake on a hot summer day. He breathes in the chilly air, sweet with the subtle scent of fallen leaves and the last bloom of flowers before winter. Rebuilding Maria will be difficult if it snows this year, but there’s no doubt in Armin’s mind that the operation will begin right away. Citizens will want to resettle their hometowns, and the interior will want to be rid of their former refugees. The Survey Corps will need a new base, one close to the Wall. Close to the_ outside. _Armin looks up at the rectangular expanse of cloudless sky visible within the courtyard’s walls. It’s moonless but covered in stars, tiny, ethereal pinpricks in the darkness. In books, he’s read that one star always points North. Someday soon, perhaps he’ll be able to follow it across the whole world._

_“Armin?”_

_He doesn’t startle at the unexpected call of his name, but his heart gives a small leap at the sound of it on a familiar voice. When he looks over, he sees that Eren is sitting on a low stone bench beneath one of the small trees lining the courtyard. The tree is still hanging onto some of its leaves, and they look bleached and pale in the semidarkness._

_“Hey,” Armin greets, meandering over to him. There is plenty of space on the bench, but Eren edges slightly over anyway in invitation. Armin accepts, using the chill of the night and the cold of the stone against his legs as his excuse for sitting a little closer than usual. He grins up at his best friend. “Finally escaped the attention, huh?”_

_“Yeah.” Eren grins back at him, then it turns to a grimace startlingly reminiscent of Mikasa’s earlier. “I wish they wouldn’t fuss like that, though. It’s not like… It’s not like I’m the only one who’s contributed, you know?”_

_“I know. And so do they,” He reassures. “It’s just that… Well, you make the_ flashiest _contribution.” Eren gives a short laugh and Armin continues, a little more seriously. “It’s flashy, and it’s a huge asset for humanity. It’s pretty safe to say that none of this,” he gives a sweeping gesture toward the bright windows and muffled voices seeping through the glass, “would be possible without you. I’d want to celebrate you, too.” He gives him an earnest smile, and Eren looks down at his knees. In the dim light, it’s easy to imagine that he’s blushing._

_“Well,” he insists stubbornly, shooting a glance at Armin. “That goes for you, too.”_

_“It goes for lots of people. But nobody is the symbol that you are.” Armin casually passes off the remark, belying the warmth that blossoms in his ribcage at the few simple words._

_Eren gives a disgruntled huff, then leans back on his palms and looks up at the stars. “Well, they better not keep doing this after we beat the Titans for good. It’ll get in the way of exploring.”_

_Armin actually hadn’t thought of that. “You’re right… I bet you and Mikasa will be winning so many medals I’ll barely ever see you,” he teases, though part of him twinges with worry. But Eren snorts incredulously and turns to face him again._

_“Armin, if somehow you’re not winning at least as many, I will personally go chew out the brass until they include you. Because damn if you don’t deserve it way more than I do.” His gaze is dead serious, but then that familiar little spark of mischief lights within. “And then we can ditch the ceremonies together.”_

_It’s Armin’s turn to blush now. It overwhelms him to hear Eren speak so highly of him, knowing he means every word of it. It’s almost unfathomable coming from someone so fiercely driven, so full of passion and intensity, towards someone so cautious and plain and prone to getting lost in thought… and yet, here they are. So many things are swirling through his mind. Eren is so close, pressed warm against his side, face mere inches from his own. So close and so beautiful, green eyes piercing through the darkness straight into Armin’s soul, Armin’s helpless, lovestruck soul, looking at him as if he were worth spending a lifetime of exploring with. He’s so close Armin can count his thick eyelashes, can smell the hint of beer on his breath, the layer of sweat from the heat of the crowd, and beneath that, the darker, earthier scent that is and always has been_ Eren.

_Armin swallows. He licks his dry lips. Eren’s gaze flicks down for a split second at the motion. This proximity is far more intoxicating than any alcohol and so much of him just wants to give in, finally give in. But…_

_“We can’t ditch the ceremonies,” he murmurs. Out of everything reeling through his head, that’s what comes out. “That would be so rude.”_

_Eren laughs – it’s only a short huff of air, expelled with an odd half-smile into the space between them. Armin sucks it in and traps it in his lungs, cradling it within him as long as he can. Eren breathes his response._

_“I don’t care.”_

_Suddenly there is a clatter behind them and they both start as the door is shoved open, the swell of voices inside loud again, deafening in the night, but only for a moment. The door swings shut with a careless_ bang _and the boys watch two giggling figures stumble across the courtyard. They’re one shape, then two, then one again, joining and parting so fluidly. Then they’re gone, pushing noisily through the door on the opposite side, that one dark and silent, on their way to somewhere more private. Staring after them, Armin feels dizzy. They had moved so assuredly, so naturally, like it was so_ easy. _He is suddenly seized by the realization that it_ could _be easy. Eren is right beside him, all warmth and safety and assurance, it would be so easy to just… just turn and lean up, it would only take a little, just a little…_

_“Are you cold?” Eren asks, something low and strained in his voice that Armin hasn’t heard before. Neither of them have jackets and Armin can feel the breeze raising goosebumps on his skin._

_“No,” he replies distractedly, not looking back, because he can feel the goosebumps but not the cold itself, because his heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he’s irrationally sure Eren must be able to hear it, his blood is hot and racing through his veins. How can he be cold with this boy pressed against his side, with adrenaline pumping through him as he hangs from the last threads of restraint, on the brink of doing something he’s hardly dared to dream about but which suddenly seems so possible?_

_“I can see your breath.”_

_As Eren speaks his palm skims a blazing trail up Armin’s spine to the back of his neck to tug him around, and Armin is done for. He lurches up and crashes into Eren’s lips a lot closer than he’d estimated and_ oh god _his lips are so warm and soft, not chapped like Armin’s, they’re soft but he can feel the hard wall of the teeth beneath because of the force of it. Eren’s fingers have tightened in the hair at the base of Armin’s skull and Armin presses their lips together hard, as if pouring all the strength of his pent-up emotions and hormones into that single point of contact, as if he can convey everything that Eren is and ever was to him in this single gesture._

 _They are immobile for a moment and the adrenaline keeping him there is just about to give out when Eren tilts his head a little and –_ oh _, and parts his lips a little, and Armin feels the graze of his teeth, the catch of those lips against his own, and he feels like his whole body is on fire. He responds in kind. Their teeth clash, their movements are rough and uncoordinated, his spine aches at the awkward angle as he presses himself as close to Eren as he can go. But the hand on his neck, the other hand curled around the side of his ribs, the fervent pull of those soft lips has his blood singing. It’s all he ever wants to feel again – but he feels a shiver from the core of Eren’s body when he flicks his tongue out, and he reconsiders that last thought, even more so when Eren’s own tongue surges forward to meet him. They clash in the middle, pushing and tangling, and Armin can taste the alcohol there, but any voice that might be nagging at him is quickly extinguished when Eren overwhelms him, tongue thrusting into the hot cavern of Armin’s mouth with a wide sweep._

 _Armin can’t help it, he_ moans, _the sound raw and deep, and he might’ve been embarrassed if he weren’t already so far gone, like the virgin he is, with the boy he’s been in love with since before he even knew what that really meant. Eren grips tighter at him and answers throatily with one of his own, and does it again. Armin pushes back against him, clumsily, feeling his lips bruising under the force of their kiss. He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t want to pull away. He never wants to pull away._

_They have to, eventually, and Armin realizes as he tries to remember how to work his lungs that they’re moving somehow. He doesn’t know when they left the bench, but now they’re the couple stumbling through the courtyard, more one than two, Eren pressing him backwards – or is Armin the one pulling? He can’t tell, he feels weightless, despite their awkward four-legged stagger. In the last faint glow of light before they make it through the doorway, he glimpses Eren’s eyes, hazed over, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and blazing with a kind of intensity different from what Armin’s used to. Then the door swings shut and he sees nothing._

_They stumble blind along the corridor, bumping gracelessly along the wall. Armin can hear Eren’s breathing, almost as ragged as his own, can feel his chest heaving where their bodies are still connected. Armin’s wrist catches on a door handle. Unthinking, he leans on it, and the two spill into an empty office. Faint, pale starlight filters through the window and Armin sees Eren’s silhouette for a split second before he is shoved back against the door, pinned in place by the tight, warm press of the larger male’s body. He gasps at the feel of Eren’s firm chest flush against his own, warmth bleeding like water through their clothes, and he leans up to seek his lips again in the darkness. He catches them greedily, licking urgently into Eren’s mouth, his body trembling with the heat that has been pooling deep in the pit of his belly and winding into a tight coil. His cock strains painfully against the tight fabric of his uniform pants. Boldly, he arches forward and,_ oh, there – _he feels Eren’s own hardness pressing back against his hip. He has to break the kiss to draw a deep, shuddering breath, and Eren gives a low groan. One of his hands slides roughly up Armin’s back, shirt coming untucked in the process, while the other grips at his narrow waist. Armin clutches at him, buries his face against the crook of his neck, breathes in his scent. He mouths at the collarbone so tantalizingly exposed by the wide neck of his shirt. He rolls his hips again._

 _This time, his clothed erection presses full against Eren’s, and Eren makes a choked noise, a tremor shooting through his body as he drops his head to Armin’s neck. He ruts back against Armin, pressing him further against the door, and despite the harsh grinding of the wood against his shoulder blades the smaller boy shudders in pleasure as he feels the hot wetness of Eren’s mouth desperate at the skin of his throat, the tickle of coarse dark hair under his jaw. Armin gropes for every inch of Eren he can reach – runs his hands up the smooth tones of his arms and shoulders, up the back of his neck and into the mess of hair, down over the angles of his shoulder blades, the contour of his back. Over the shallow slope of his ass, the firm backs of his thighs, then back up, over the sharp hips, grazing up his sides, as much as he can reach without getting in between their bodies. But his hands falter as Eren grinds repeatedly against him, his mind losing whatever semblance of focus it was still somehow clinging to. No deep-sleep dream or furtive midnight fantasy could ever begin to compare to this responsiveness, this_ reality. _Armin bathes in the sensation of Eren’s warm, solid body, carving its memory into his flesh, letting it fill the spaces that always ached for it._

_But he still wants more. He stops Eren’s hips on their push forward, presses them back despite the reflexive whine it earns him. He gets his hands in between them, the space like a furnace, and grabs for the other boy’s belt. Eren catches on, and his wrists bump into Armin’s as he follows suit. The nerves in Armin’s belly spasm at the brush of the rough fingertips through his shirt as he fumbles desperately with the buckle. Armin’s own fingers are trembling and inarticulate, but when he gets Eren’s pants open he rakes them over the contour of his cock through his underwear. Eren moans openmouthed against his neck, and Armin draws a sharp, ragged breath at the feeling of his hardness. He’s tried so hard not to imagine what this would feel like, and now here it is, stiff and twitching beneath his palm, already damp even through the fabric._

_Eren is struggling, his fingers slipping in their frenzy against the button even as his hips strain forward against Armin’s hand. Armin nudges him out of the way to help him along, choking out a noise as Eren grinds his palm down over the bulge in his pants in the meantime. As soon as the fastenings are undone Eren is yanking at the waistband. Armin’s erection slips from the tight restraints of his clothing, and when Eren’s warm fingers curl immediately around his shaft it’s all he can do not to come right then. He stifles a loud moan against the taller male’s shoulder, one hand still pressed against Eren’s dick and the other clawed into a fistful of shirt at the small of his back._

_He can’t think, especially not when Eren begins pumping him, quick, messy strokes that send violent shockwaves through the base of his spine. His mind is a haze of pleasure and exaltation and desperation, but somehow through the debilitating bliss of having Eren’s hand around him, he finds enough presence to move. Armin tugs the waistband far enough down to free the other male’s cock, drags his hip forward again. He whimpers and Eren’s teeth clamp down on his shoulder through his shirt as their exposed erections slide against each other, skin-on-skin, slick with precum and throbbing with arousal. Eren adjusts his grip to fit around both of them and Armin reaches down to join him. With his other hand he reaches up, roughly caressing over his best friend’s shoulder, up his throat to his jaw. He pries Eren’s head away from his shoulder to seek his lips again._

_It’s less of a kiss this time and more a messy clash of lips and teeth and tongue as they gasp into each other. Eren’s body pressed flush against his, Eren’s tongue in his mouth, Eren’s length twitching against him and beneath his hand – Armin has ached for this so long, tried to bury it beneath his guilt for so long. But now Eren is_ here _and breathless and hard against him, and the pleasure burns hot in his belly, and his heart has swollen in his chest, lifting him up, and up, and up. Eren’s mouth is on his and he can do anything. No wall is insurmountable, no enemy too great to defeat, and the ocean is just a few more steps away, an endless stretch of blue and green that they’ll see together, together, always together—_

_Armin ruts forward, his cock slick against Eren’s in the hot cage of their hands, and he cries out as the tight coil of pleasure snaps. Just before his vision goes black he feels Eren’s arm tighten like a vice around his waist, feels his body go stiff, but then his mind shorts out and for a few moments he is a writhing mass of sparking nerves. Somewhere in the distance he registers a new warmth on his hand._

_When his senses return, he is aware of Eren breathing heavily against his neck. The starlight filters through the window and Armin dimly traces the silhouette of Eren’s shoulder with his eyes. His mind begins to clear._

_Then, he realizes what he’s done._

_“Oh, my god—”_

_His voice cracks through the stillness of the heated air and breaks the spell. His sticky hand jolts guiltily away from their softening cocks and he tries to pull back, but there is a door behind him. The pleasure has turned to lead inside him, he feels simultaneously hollow and heavy, like he’s just missed a step going down. Eren is his_ best friend _, Eren had been drinking, for fuck’s sake, and Armin had pushed him into_ _—_ _gotten him caught up in_ _—_ _pushed further and further in his own selfishness. His heart is racing again but this time his blood is frigid, and when his chest begins to heave it’s because his throat is tight and he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs._

_Eren pulls away a little. Looks at him in confusion. Armin can only stare back, helpless to defend himself. He has no excuse. He can’t even blame the alcohol, not really. He still feels like himself, only more exposed and miserable than he thinks he’s ever been. Any moment now Eren will recoil in realization and disgust, and he will deserve it._

_Eren stares at him a moment, looking befuddled. Armin feels lower than dirt. Tears begin to well up in his eyes but his vocal chords seem to have rusted in place._

_“Armin?”_

_He shudders at the word as if it were a physical blow. In the faint light, he sees Eren’s expression change from confusion to panic, and the grip around Armin’s waist retracts quickly._

_“Armin… Oh my god, how much did you drink?”_

_Armin can’t breathe. He manages to stumble away from Eren, hastily shoving himself back into his pants._

_“I-I’m… Sorry, I—”_

_But he doesn’t have the words. His hip crashes painfully into the doorknob and he fumbles with it, his numb fingers scrabbling for purchase. They slip pathetically against the smooth metal. His dirty hand juts uselessly away from his side at an awkward angle as if it’s no longer part of his body. The rattling doorknob and his own shallow gasps are the only sound in the tiny room, and they’re deafening. He can’t even hear Eren breathing._

_He finally manages to get the door open and he bolts, stumbles blind through the dark hallway and out into the night, outside the building, the barracks a dark, distant promise of safety. Halfway there he has to stop and retch into the bushes, and the tears finally spill out in earnest. His head is spinning._

_He scours his hands raw in the bathroom, a vain attempt at erasing the evidence, but the memory is etched into his palms. The barracks are dark and empty when he gives up trying to feel clean. Everyone else is still celebrating. Armin has never been glad that Eren slept shut away in an isolated chamber, but tonight, that fact is a tiny glimmer of relief. He curls up on his bed and sobs like he hasn’t let himself in years. He is weak and disgusting. He always has been, but now Eren knows it._

_Armin would deserve it if Eren never spoke to him again. But selfishly, ever selfishly, he prays with all his heart that things can go back to normal somehow. Please, let them both just…_ forget _about this whole mess. The ocean may be his dream, but Eren is his lifeblood. He knows he would just waste away without him._

_He cries himself dry. He lies still when the others begin to return. Sleep does not come._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my.
> 
> First of all sorry this chapter is so late! The year-end has been a bit hectic but I'm aiming to get back on the "every other Saturday" schedule starting now. I don't usually do the New Year's resolution thing, but this year my resolution is to get this fic completed. It's already way more than I've ever done before so I'm feeling pretty good about that.
> 
> Second. Well. This chapter. Maybe this plot element is really cliche. But I'm in too deep to make big changes to it now. There's a ton of complicated emotional/moral baggage in it, so I guess my only hope is that I can do that some semblance of justice.
> 
> Third, this chapter also really screwed over my sense of this fic's writing style. I tend to default to past tense, but I actually reeeeally love writing in present tense. And I got so mentally involved in this chapter that it was a legitimate struggle to put the next chapter back in past tense. Heck, even three chapters later I was still finding myself accidentally slipping into present tense. Gosh darnit.
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who's been reading this and left feedback! I've been putting a lot into this fic and it means so much to know that others are getting enjoyment out of it. Happy New Year, everybody!


	10. Recoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His past mistake fresh in his mind, Armin struggles to get his bearings again.

Armin woke bleary and disoriented to the sound of the bell. It had been a while since he’d slept so long, but he didn’t feel well-rested at all. His body was stiff from falling asleep in his clothes, and he felt drained and hollow. He dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids as he sat up, cursing quietly to himself while the soldiers around him groaned and shuffled to get ready. His dream really, _really_ hadn’t helped. The last thing he needed was a graphic reminder of the thing he was trying to forget about… and his heart sank even further as he remembered Eren’s cold behavior last night. Please, please, let the night have washed away his anger…

He recognized the frigid dread that settled in below his ribcage as the same kind that had seized him after the night of Maria’s reclamation. As he changed into his uniform, the memories came rushing back in waves now that the floodgate was open.

_It’s all he can do to bring himself to step into the mess hall the following morning. He has to force his lungs to work – tight, controlled breaths, his throat burning for how little air he is able to let in. He approaches his group with his head down, unable to look at his best friend. He’d half-expected Eren to not show up, or even to sit somewhere else, but there he is beside Mikasa, like always. Armin sits on her other side – he can’t look her in the eye, either – and mumbles some excuse when she asks where he’d disappeared to last night. It’s a silent meal, and Armin eats mechanically to mask his intensifying dread. He’s in a state of near-hysteria all morning, and when he remembers that he and Eren are both on stable duty he is struck with a horrible wave of nausea._

_They work in tense silence, this foreign anxiety stretching out between them like a cable that might snap back in his face at any moment. All he can do is wait, wait for Eren’s anger or disappointment or disgust or regret, wait for the final blow that will bring his world crashing down around him. Finally, the sounds of Eren’s movement behind him stop, and so does Armin’s heart._

_“Armin…” The voice that speaks his name is hoarse, and he forces himself to finally look at Eren. His face is drawn and tired, deep dark circles etched out below his eyes._

_I did that to him,_ _Armin thinks miserably. He tries to steel himself for whatever is coming next:_ _“I can’t believe you came onto me like that.” “I can’t be around you anymore.” “You’re not who I thought you were.”_

_What comes instead is, “I’m… really sorry.”_

_Somehow, that’s even worse. Armin shakes his head vehemently. “No,_ I’m _sorry,” he protests, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have… I can’t believe I…” He hates hearing Eren apologizing when he should be angry or upset. But it sparks a tiny, selfish glimmer of hope somewhere deep within._

_They stand there for a moment, awkward in a way they’ve never been before. Armin desperately holds back the tide of emotion that he knows would ruin any chances of returning to normalcy if he lets it spill through._

_Eren shuffles and looks at the floor. “Are we still…?”_

_“_ Yes, _” Armin breathes immediately, relief flooding through him, nearly bringing him to tears, even as a voice in the back of his mind whispers that he doesn’t deserve this chance, doesn’t deserve someone as compassionate and forgiving as Eren. But the rest of him clutches greedily at the offering. He tries to justify his frailty by vowing to himself that he’ll never make a mistake like that again._

_Despite Eren’s generosity, Armin can tell he is still uncomfortable. They don’t touch each other for months afterward, every accidental brush followed by a jolt away and awkward mumbled apologies, much to Mikasa’s palpable concern and frequent questioning. The lack of contact hurts like a gaping wound, like the loss of a limb he’d been leaning on practically his whole life. But he grits his teeth, because he somehow still has Eren’s friendship, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything._

_But after a while, when the incident is well behind them, they stop jumping away, hands begin to linger just a few moments longer than usual. And gradually, ever so gradually, things go back to normal. Armin can hardly believe it, but he tentatively hopes it means Eren has been able to put the incident from his mind. He tries to do the same. He tries to stamp down his feelings twice as hard as before – in some ways, it’s easier now that his guilt is so much heavier._

“Jeez, Armin, you okay? You look even worse than Connie.”

Armin came out of his reverie to see Jean peering down at him in concern, Connie standing haggard and bleary on his other side.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… didn’t sleep well,” he half-lied. Jean frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but an officer stuck his head through the door.

“Hup to, soldiers! If you miss breakfast you’ll have even less fun during drills!”

“I’ll catch up in a second.” Armin waved the other two along, needing another moment to compose himself and not at all looking forward to the meal. His eyes landed on the book sitting atop his nightstand, and he reached for the convenient excuse. “Just gotta put this away.”

After one last concerned look, Jean prodded Connie along. Armin waited for them to get ahead before sticking the book back in the drawer. He barely remembered taking it out – although he wasn’t about to get arrested for his interest in the outside world at this point, it still felt wrong to leave that book lying out in the open. It was the only heirloom he had. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so careless with it, but he didn’t dwell on it – the sight of it and everything it embodied just added to the shame roiling in his chest.

His steps felt heavy as he made his way reluctantly toward the mess hall. All the old doubts were back, front and center in his mind, and over it all loomed the look of disgust and disappointment on Eren’s face that had been such a long time coming.

He stepped into the building. The chatter was very low-energy this morning – it seemed that a lot of others, like Connie, had gone a bit too hard on their day off. He glanced towards their usual table and saw Eren already there, back toward the room, sulking over his food while Mikasa prodded at him. His stomach churned and he glanced around, unconsciously searching for some diversion. His eyes landed on the officers' table. He made a split-second decision.

Levi paused amidst a dainty sip of his tea when Armin approached, and raised one slim eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a party boy, Arlert.”

The dismayed confusion must have been evident on Armin’s face, because the Corporal rolled his eyes.

“Hungover. You look hungover.”

“Oh…” Armin lowered his eyes. “No, sir. Just a little tired.”

Hanji looked away from their determined conversation with Erwin over Adler’s head, and gave him a bright, if slightly strained, smile.

“Armin! So nice to have you back!” There was a note of desperation in their voice. The other officers’ eyes turned towards him as well, Erwin’s mildly curious, Adler’s mildly amused.

“Ideally, a day off is supposed to restore the troops’ spirits,” Erwin remarked, “but everyone always seems to go a bit overboard and end up tired, instead.” He gave a brief chuckle. “Well, I suppose it’s their freedom to do so.”

“As long as you can still work,” Levi added with a scowl.

“Oh, he’ll be fine!” Hanji dismissed. “Armin’s nice and responsible. Besides, we’re doing brain work today. Sometimes the best discoveries are…”

Levi held up a hand. “I don’t wanna hear your justifications.”

“Actually,” Armin said. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” He looked politely between the three members of Command, ignoring Adler. “I’d like to request permission to take on afternoon chores again.”

Hanji blinked and frowned in confusion. “What about the engine?”

“I can work on that with you in the mornings, and if I have simpler chores, I can still think about the design in the meantime. And it might help to keep my mind fresh if I have other tasks. I apologize if it’s too presumptuous of a request…”

“No, you do have a point,” Erwin agreed, though Hanji looked a little reluctant.

“I will be more than happy to continue working on the engine in my free time, as well,” he added.

“I dunno… that’s a pretty big chunk of time to lose.” Hanji was still unconvinced, but Levi held up a finger.

“I have a suggestion. You’ve been off drills for, what, almost a week now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a soldier – you need to keep your body sharp as well as your mind. Let’s alternate you between drills and chores. That way you’ll still have time to do your brain stuff, and your little friends will only have to pick up your slack half as much. Sound good?”

Armin felt his face heating up. “Yes, sir.”

“How about you, four-eyes?”

“I guess I can accept that.”

“Good. I’ll write you back into the schedule later today, Arlert. Just don’t come crying to me if it turns out to be more than you can handle.”

“Of course. Thank you, sir.”

He saluted respectfully and Levi waved him off. As he stepped away from the officer’s table, he heard Adler begin to comment: “Dedication, that’s the one thing your recruits have got ours beat on. Though I suppose your branch does require a certain degree of fanaticism…”

Armin collected his tray of gruel, took a deep breath, and finally forced himself to walk casually over to his group. As he slid nervously in beside Mikasa, she turned and fixed him with a measured stare as if to say that she hadn’t forgotten her business with him. Sasha looked up cheerfully to greet him, but her expression quickly fell to one of concern.

“Yikes, what happened? You look like you got run over by a horse.”

“I just didn’t sleep well.” He repeated his earlier excuse.

“Really? Is something bothering you?”

He felt Mikasa’s eyes boring into him. “I guess I was just nervous about work today,” he lied.

“Oh, right, you’re starting the engine design, aren’t you?” Sasha grinned at him. “I dunno what you’re nervous about. With you and Hanji together, you’ll have that thing figured out in no time!”

“Is that what you were talking to the officers about just now?” Jean asked, irritably pushing Connie away from where he’d slumped against his shoulder. The short boy just fell to the other side against Sasha instead, who reached up to pet his shaved head comfortingly with one hand while stealing a spoonful of his gruel with the other.

“Actually,” Armin replied quietly, “I’m getting reassigned to some of my chores, so you guys don’t have to do so much extra work.”

Sasha’s brow furrowed, but before she could speak another voice cut her off.

“We did that because we wanted to.”

Armin’s heart gave a nervous jump at the mutter, and he glanced over at Eren, who was glaring into his bowl and picking sullenly at its contents. He looked pretty exhausted, too, Armin noted in dismay.

“Yeah, Armin, you didn’t have to do that,” Jean agreed with a frown. “Aren’t you going to need a lot of time for your other work?”

“It’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure, flustered. “I can still think while I do chores, and it’s not every day… sorry.” He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for – the fact that they still had to pull some of his weight? Or that he was somehow disappointing them? Why did he feel like he’d just messed up again? He stared into his bowl as if it might help him feel less lost and confused and unhappy. Eren was clearly upset, and if not at Armin, then at what? But if that were the case, shouldn’t he be relieved that he didn’t have to cover for him as much anymore? Or was he already trying to move past it again, but Armin had somehow made it worse?

He and Eren had been so in tune with each other their whole lives, but this was the one thing Armin couldn’t get a read on, and the one thing he was too terrified – too cowardly – to verbally address. After two years of not talking about it, of shoving it to the deepest recesses of his mind and trying to forget, pretending to forget, he was afraid that their unspoken agreement to just let it be would snap and they would lose the ability to go back to normal, forever. This inability to intuit Eren’s thought process left him feeling helpless and alone, but all he could do was pretend – pretend things were normal, and hope it blew over soon, so it _could_ go back to normal… if Eren was still willing, that is.

Mikasa nudged him in the elbow. “Eat,” she commanded curtly. “You’re running out of time.” He felt her lean the other way. “You, too.”

Breakfast was always a quick affair, and today he was grateful for that. As his peers departed for the drill field, he split off in the opposite direction, trying to organize the mess of emotion inside him. Hanji fell in beside him as they made their way to the lab.

“Our  _lovely_ guest will be along in a bit,” they informed him, casting a disdainful look over their shoulder. “He’s discussing our budget with Erwin right now.” The Squad Leader snorted. “That’d be the one good thing that could come out of his little spy mission. Goodness knows we need the money. You put the order in for our materials, right?”

“Yes, there were no problems. They went on high priority, so they should arrive by next week.” Armin straightened his posture and did his best to refocus. He needed to work now; he couldn’t let his performance suffer because of his personal problems. Everyone was counting on the two of them to figure this out.

Hanji glanced over at him, as if they knew what he was thinking. “Look, Armin… I’m not going to scold you for asking to go back to regular duties. This may surprise you, but I know full well that sometimes you need a diversion to stay focused. Why do you think my lab is full of so much shit?” They gave a short laugh, then continued seriously. “All I ask is that you don’t let your pride get in the way of this project. Frankly, this is way more important than a few simple chores.”

Armin felt his face coloring. “Yes, Squad Leader,” he said meekly, unable to deny it and hating himself for it.

“Well,” Hanji scanned him out of the corner of their eye. “I agreed because I think you can handle it. You’re still young, you’re entitled to getting preoccupied once in a while – as long as it doesn’t get in the way.” They grinned down at him, then gave him a hearty smack between the shoulder blades. “And on the off chance it is too much, don’t worry about ol’ grouchy-pants. Just let me know and I’ll wail about how much I miss you until he sticks you back with me full-time.”

“Thank you,” Armin replied politely, though it didn’t really make him feel better. He’d let his superior down, too, with his selfishness. What else could he screw up today?

He tried to take heart from the balloons as they entered the lab, but they looked so much less impressive when they weren’t in the sky. They were mostly just sad puddles of fabric. And that’s all a full-scale model would be, too, if they couldn’t figure out the engine – a massive puddle of fabric, and a colossal waste of time and their limited resources. The thought nagged at his mind as they unrolled sheets of drawing paper, plunked the original balloon’s engine up on the desk, and got out their other reference materials.

It got even harder to focus when Adler eventually made his way in. Hanji didn’t even try to mask their heavy sigh when he stepped through the door.

“Don’t you need to get back to the interior today?” They asked irritably as the Major moved a large mess of files carelessly from a chair to an already-cluttered table. A small cascade of paper slid from the top of the stack onto the floor as he settled himself comfortably down to observe.

“Later,” he answered casually. “I have another errand in a town nearby, so I’ll be spending the night there before I return. I’m in no particular rush.”

Hanji grumbled and tried to ignore him as he looked critically around the room, lurked over the duo’s shoulders to peer at their work, and made the occasional unhelpful comment.

Progress was slow. “See, the problem with the original engine,” Hanji muttered, thinking out loud, “is that it’s too heavy and inefficient. They’d need to carry a lot of gas on board, and even then there probably wouldn’t have been enough to keep them airborne for more than… maybe an hour, hour and a half? We have access to lighter metals than this, which will help, but we need to find an efficient design that will still be capable of reaching such high temperatures…”

The two of them flipped through diagrams of gas stove burners and furnace systems that only nobles could afford, looking for structures and components that could be adapted to their purposes. They jotted down notes, scribbled rough sketches, crossed things out as they realized that something wouldn’t work.

As it neared lunchtime, Adler yawned. “I think I’ll go get my things in order,” he said. “A shame your current task is less interesting to watch, or I’d stick around longer.”

“Yeah, a real shame,” Hanji muttered, rolling their eyes discreetly at Armin. “But hey, that’s science for you. Can’t all be excitement and explosions… unfortunately.”

“Quite.” He stood from his seat and gave a slow, leisurely stretch, bones popping in his back, heaving a loud sigh when he relaxed. Hanji’s eyebrow twitched. “Well, then, I suppose I’ll be seeing you at lunch, but thank you for so _hospitably_ permitting me to observe your process. It was certainly fascinating to see the Survey Corps’ famed eccentric at work.”

Hanji donned a large smile. “And thank _you_ , Major, for putting in a good word for us with the Budget Committee. Your contribution to this project will be much appreciated.”

Adler gave an unpleasant chuckle. “Hopefully my report will be enough to convince them to put stock in such a far-fetched idea. Especially since the matter of the engine seems to be a rather daunting one… Good luck with that.” With a smirk, he pushed through the door, letting it swing shut with a _bang_ behind him.

After a moment during which they watched the officer’s receding figure through the window, Hanji let out a deep sigh.

“Well thank Sina we don’t have _him_ hawking around anymore, I don’t think I could last much longer. You should’ve heard him yesterday – all backhanded compliment this, veiled insult that. What a smarmy asshole.” They scowled. Armin had to agree that Adler’s presence was far from a pleasant one.

They kept working right up to the lunch bell, though they still didn’t make much progress. As Armin made his way slowly across the grass to the courtyard, he reminded himself that they had only just started working on it – of course they couldn’t expect to find the perfect solution immediately. He couldn’t let himself get disheartened so soon.

He decided to take a detour and see if Levi had updated the schedule before going to the mess hall. He felt a little more stable than before thanks to the hours spent focusing on something else, but the thought of facing everyone’s displeasure still made his stomach flip uncomfortably. As he rounded the corner, heading for the noticeboard posted outside the central tower, he nearly collided with Adler, who was emerging from the other side.

“Oh – Excuse me, sir.” Armin lowered his eyes quickly, his spirits sinking. He’d hoped he was finished having to interact with this man, who seemed to enjoy prolonging unwanted conversations.

Sure enough, Adler stopped and turned to look down at him. “Arlert. Hard to believe such a large brain could fit inside such a small body – I barely even noticed you.” He smirked at his own joke. “It was quite intriguing watching you and Hanji work. Birds of a feather, I see.”

Armin pressed his lips together. “I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”

“As you will.” Adler grinned his sharp, toothy grin. “Good luck with the project. It suits you.” He strode away, leaving Armin exasperated and bemused. He took a deep breath and decided to brush it off, making his way to the noticeboard as he’d originally intended. Sure enough, Levi had already gone through and penned Armin’s name back in, the small, neat letters squeezed into the space left after crossing out the name that had previously been there. He lingered for a few minutes as he committed his schedule for the rest of the month to memory. It was less to remember than usual, as he was still off chores for half the time, and it was mostly alternating between a few of the simpler duties, like woodcutting and stable-mucking and lookout. But he couldn’t procrastinate forever, and eventually he had to head to the mess hall.

\--

“Yikes, it’s that late already?” Hanji looked up in bewilderment as the bell for curfew chimed from the courtyard. “You’d better get to bed and rest up. I’m gonna stay here a little longer.” They stifled a yawn. “Let’s hope for better progress tomorrow.”

Armin bade them goodnight without protest, and stepped out into the night. The field between the lab and the main block seemed to yawn even bigger in the darkness. He took a step forward, but suddenly a shadow moved in his peripheral vision. He whipped around, body tensing instinctively – then he breathed a sigh of relief when the dim glow of lamplight from the window caught a familiar red scarf.

“Mikasa… you startled me,” he said as she stood from where she’d been crouched against the building. Then, nervously, “Shouldn’t you be in the barracks by now?”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” she replied shortly, taking him by the elbow and marching him across the grass.

His heart sank. He had no illusions as to what this was about. He’d hoped to avoid it by ducking back out to the lab immediately after dinner, since he knew she wouldn’t bring it up while other people were around, but he hadn’t expected her to wait around for him. And he could tell from her demeanor that she meant business.

They stopped in the shadow of the storehouse entrance, where the guards in the nearest watchtower wouldn’t spot them. Mikasa turned to face him abruptly and Armin braced himself, but for a long moment she just stared at him, peering into his eyes as if the answers might present themselves there. Finally, she let out a sigh.

“Look,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I know something happened with you and Eren. He won’t tell me, and you won’t tell me, but I know it has to do with the night after we recaptured Maria, and I can hazard a guess as to what it was.” Her lips pressed into a grim line and Armin’s heart plummeted like a stone. All he could do was hold his breath and wait for her judgement.

“But what I just can’t figure out,” she continued, shaking her head, “is why it would lead to… all _this._ ” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I thought I might be wrong, which is why I didn’t say anything back then, and you two seemed to get things more or less worked out. But clearly, you haven’t.” Her eyes narrowed sharply. “Eren just gets mad and shuts down when I try to ask him. What happened that even you two can’t talk about it?”

Armin realized that she wanted him to answer. The frustration seeping through her controlled tone was like a punch to the gut, and the last straw on his frayed nerves. He dropped his head in shame.

“It’s… my fault. I did something, but I… I can’t talk about it. I'm sorry.” His voice cracked, but he held back the urge to break down and confess completely. He couldn’t stand it if he lost Mikasa, too. “I thought he’d forgiven me, but now I’m not sure…”

When he chanced to glance back up at her, Mikasa was frowning. Not in accusation, as he’d expected, but rather what looked like confusion. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Huh?” He blinked. “What do you mean? You said he was mad, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But not at _you._ ” She looked troubled, but she shook her head. “If you really don’t want to tell me, fine. I won’t force you. But you two need to figure this out. I really don’t think it’s as bad as either of you are making it out to be.” She scowled. “And I don’t want to have to sit in the middle watching you dance around each other anymore. It’s weird.”

Armin slumped dejectedly, wishing it were that simple. Mikasa’s gaze softened and she reached out to him, pulling him close. He collapsed gratefully into her warmth, burying his face against her shoulder as her arms wound tight around his back. The contact was a huge relief after a stressful day, cathartic to a level that almost surprised him, despite the voice in his head whispering that if she knew, she’d be disgusted, too.

“Sorry,” he mumbled weakly against her scarf as her palm smoothed soothingly over his shoulder blade. The single word encompassed everything – the things he couldn’t bring himself to tell her; the ways he’d inadvertently hurt even her with his screw-ups; the fact that he couldn’t quite believe her reassurances; his guilt and his weakness; everything that roiled within him, bottled and unexpressed.

She shushed him, and he felt her head come to rest against his.


	11. Imbalance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are busy and a little awkward. Armin begins to question his understanding of certain events.

Unfortunately, the next few days left little time for anything other than work. Between drills, chores, and the constant pressure of the engine design, he only saw his friends at meals. Eren seemed to have cooled off – at least, he didn’t seem angry anymore, and he wasn’t ignoring Armin, either, although there was still an awkward tension in their limited interactions. Now he seemed more concerned than anything – Armin would catch him casting nervous little glances at him during meals. That was something of a relief, even though Armin wasn’t really sure what had triggered it or what it meant. But it made Mikasa’s reassurances easier to believe, and so he clung to it, a small spot of hope against his mounting stress.

Their work on the balloon's engine had stagnated. He and Hanji both were stumped. They had compiled a series of potential diagrams only to ultimately dismiss them – too heavy, too unstable, not hot enough. It didn’t help that they only had one chance. Central Command had finally responded to their grant proposal – if the Survey Corps could successfully carry out a flight with a human passenger, they would get funding to continue the project. It seemed a little counter-intuitive, but they weren’t in much of a position to argue. As it stood, they would barely be able to scrape together enough for one prototype engine, so they needed to get it right. With that pressure looming over them, he and Hanji second-guessed everything. Even the engineers they managed to consult with were only able to provide limited insight into something that seemed so far-fetched.

The project haunted Armin’s mind through every waking moment – during drills, chores, meals, the lengthening stretch of time spent lying in darkness before he fell asleep. That wouldn’t have been so bad if it was at least productive, but instead his brain seemed more intent on churning through the failures and missteps, leading right up to the huge gaping maw of _what if._ He made a conscious effort to avoid that road, but it only loomed larger with each passing day, with each frustrated sigh, with each sound of a pen scratching something out. Hanji was a little discouraged, too, but they seemed able to brush it off much more easily. “When you have as much experience as I do, you’ll learn that this stuff takes time,” they told him, with a comforting pat on the shoulder. Rationally, Armin knew that, and he tried to take it to heart. His heart, unfortunately, had other ideas.

He shifted uncomfortably and stared out at the treetops from the higher vantage point offered by the watchtower. He was stationed on lookout today, which basically meant he had the day to his thoughts. It wasn’t an excuse to slack off completely – he still had to watch for signal flares or unauthorized approaches. The nice thing about that was the huge field surrounding the base on all sides, which meant that someone attempting to sneak out of the forest would be spotted immediately. Not that there were many people who would try to do that. The Military Police had no cause to attack them these days, and the bandits that haunted the outskirts of Maria usually knew enough to keep away. Still, one could never be too careful, so Armin tried not to let his preoccupations distract him too much.

He worried at his lip as his eyes idly tracked a soldier making their way across the field with a sling full of firewood. His fingers toyed nervously with the folded sheets of papers he kept on him in case he thought of anything for the engine. One corner was curled and fraying with how much he’d been fiddling with it. There was much less actually written on it than he would’ve liked.

“Armin,” said a voice behind him, and he glanced back to see his fellow guard for the day emerging from the stairwell. “I’m back. You can take your break now.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She only nodded briefly as she resumed her post. Armin was glad he’d been paired with somebody not so talkative today. He made his way down the steep, narrow staircase that wrapped around the walls to the sparsely-furnished lounge on the ground floor, and took a seat in one of the hard armchairs. It still felt good to sit after the hours spent standing mostly inert. But he couldn’t relax – he reached over to grab a book he’d borrowed from Hanji off the table and flipped it open on his lap, and began to go through the mechanics of gas heating for what felt like the umpteenth time. Maybe this time something new would jump out at him.

He had barely gotten through the first page when the thin door clattered open, and when he looked up in confusion Eren was shouldering his way in, a kerchief looped around his neck, a broom pinned against his shoulder, and a bucket of cleaning supplies in tow. He spotted Armin and stopped in the threshold, their eyes meeting fully for the first time in days. Armin’s heart was suddenly in his throat.

“Oh. Hi.” Eren looked similarly caught off-guard, but at least he didn’t seem upset. “Um… am I gonna bother you?” He held up the cleaning supplies by way of explanation.

Armin shook his head quickly. “No, not at all! Will I be in your way? I can move if you need…”

It was Eren’s turn to shake his head. “Nah, you’re fine.” After a short moment of awkward shuffling, he set the bucket down and started to pull supplies out, and Armin went back to his book. But he couldn’t focus. Eren’s presence was usually one of two so familiar it was like being alone, but right now he was hyper-aware of every tiny movement. He couldn’t seem to shut off his peripheral vision as Eren stretched out to wipe down the table or tugged a chair out of the way to clear a path for his broom, couldn’t tune out the shifting sound of his footsteps or the huffs of air expelled through his nose as he scrubbed at some persistent stain.

If there was ever a time to try to put things to rest with him, now was it. Armin didn’t know when the next time they had a moment alone would be – at this rate, it could very well be weeks. He should say something. But for once, words were failing him. _Hey, sorry for taking advantage of you two years ago, but let’s just put it behind us so we can still be friends._ Yeah, right.

He had fruitlessly read the same line three times without understanding a word when Eren spoke, his voice a little gruff.

“So Mikasa’s going to Breach Guard in a couple days.”

Armin glanced up in surprise, and responded automatically. “Yeah... She mentioned that at lunch yesterday.” She really hadn’t been happy about it – although, to be fair, Breach Guard was one of the most dreaded rotations for everybody. Mikasa’s impending absence for a whole week was yet another nagging concern chewing away at the edges of Armin’s mind. With the tension between him and Eren still unresolved, her presence was his sole point of stability, and he was afraid of losing that tether when so many things were pressing in on him at once.

Eren paused in dusting off the back of a chair and glanced tentatively over at him. “I dunno if you’ll have to rush off to work, but… if you have time, we should go see her off.”

It took a moment for the words to process through his jumbled brain, but when they did, relief flooded through him, washing away a significant portion of the weight that had settled firmly over him since the night they’d gone out. He nodded and somehow managed to keep the waver out of his voice, though some of it crept into his smile. “Yeah… I’d like to.”

Eren smiled too, a small and tired one, and the air between them relaxed. He went back to dusting the chair, but Armin forgot to go back to his book and just watched him for a moment. It had only been a few days but _god_ he’d missed Eren. He wasn’t sure what had spurred the other boy to extend the peace offering this time, but whatever it was, he was so grateful he needed to take a few deep breaths to keep himself from choking up.

“Have you been sleeping okay?” Eren asked, glancing up as he moved to the next chair. If he noticed that Armin had been staring, he didn’t react. Armin dropped his gaze to his book anyway.

“Not really,” he admitted after a moment of consideration. “I’ve… been a little stressed.”

Eren frowned. The chair was definitely clean by now, but he kept polishing it. “Is it…” He stopped, shook his head, and started again. “Is it the engine stuff?”

“Yeah.” Partially, anyway. “We’ve kind of hit a wall.” Somehow it was a relief to say it to someone who wasn’t Hanji. Or maybe it was just because it was Eren. “There’s something else we need that we just haven’t quite put a finger on.” Look at him, getting all talkative all of a sudden after just a few words. He was hopeless.

But Eren didn’t seem to mind. “Well, it’s only been a few days, right?” He finally moved on from the chair and picked up the broom again. “I mean, I’m no expert, but it seems pretty complicated. That kind of thing usually takes a while, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but…” he tucked up his legs as Eren moved to sweep in front of his chair. “It’s still a little frustrating when we have all these other machines to pull from. It’s not like we’re starting from zero.”

Eren paused in front of him and tilted his head. “But those other machines aren’t giant balloons, right?”

“No,” Armin had to concede.

Eren smiled down at him, a little wider than before. “See? You have an excuse.”

He had to look away to conceal his blush. He was never going to learn, was he? He thought bitterly to himself, even as he took comfort in the words. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.” He peeked back up and their eyes caught for a moment, held.

Eren cleared his throat and moved away, hunching over the broom and focusing down at his sweeping. “Sorry. I guess I interrupted your reading.”

“No, it’s okay… it wasn’t really helping.” He looked back down as well. There was still a little awkwardness lingering between them, but not nearly as bad – and the sense of negativity was already gone. Things would be back to normal before long, he was sure. He hoped, anyway.

He tried to focus back on his book, but now he was distracted for a whole other reason. After a few minutes of fiddling blankly with the page corner, he gave up. He hadn’t had the time or mental energy to socialize at all for the past few days, he justified. What would a few minutes hurt?

“What have you guys been doing with your evenings lately?” He asked, sliding the book back onto the table in defeat.

Eren gave a noncommittal shrug, his back still turned. “Not a whole lot,” he replied. “Connie’s rediscovered poker and keeps trying to rope everyone in. You can probably guess how that turns out.”

“Oh, boy.” Armin gave a brief chuckle. “I take it he hasn’t gotten any better, huh.”

“Nope. And Sasha’s brutal as ever. I try to stay out of that mess.”

“Good idea. You’re too easy to read,” he dared to tease lightly.

Eren glanced back to cast him a mock glare. “Don’t act like you don’t have your tells. You sit up straighter and start biting your lip when you’re bluffing.”

Armin felt his cheeks heating up. “What are they betting, anyway? They can’t be sneaking rations like they did back in training, can they?” He diverted.

“Are you kidding? Levi would skin them alive if they did that.” Eren grimaced at the thought. “Nah, it’s kind of turned into one of those dumb kid games. Y’know, making the loser do some stupid dare or whatever. They’ve started trying to gang up on Jean to make him show his sketchbook. Somehow he’s managed to hold out so far.”

Armin gave a slightly wistful smile. “It sounds like you guys are having fun.”

“I guess.” There was a pause. “It’s not as fun without you, though.”

His heart squeezed tightly in his chest, but he played it off as a joke. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, working with Hanji isn’t as fun without you, either.”

Eren shot him a cheeky grin. “Well maybe I’ll ask to be reassigned, too. I can be moral support. Think they’ll go for that?”

“Hmm. Maybe we can use your Titan steam to inflate the balloon.” Oh, now there was an idea. Why hadn’t they thought of that sooner?

They chatted aimlessly as Eren cleaned, and Armin’s break was over too quickly. He stood to go, reluctant to leave this unexpected bubble of peace.

“I need to get back to my shift, but… see you at dinner?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but his voice seemed to make it one of its own accord.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Eren responded, looking suddenly distracted. Armin started to turn towards the stairs, but before he could move he felt warm fingers curling hesitantly around his own. He froze in surprise.

“Sorry,” Eren muttered, his vivid green eyes boring into Armin’s, worried but sincere. “About the other night I mean. I acted like a jerk.” His gaze dropped guiltily to the floor. “I… Sorry.”

Armin tried to reconcile his confusion with the sudden resurgence of self-consciousness and panic as the Unbroachable Topic came suddenly so close to being broached. He shook his head vehemently. “No, you…” _have every right to be angry._ “You didn’t.”

Eren’s eyes were back on his, brow furrowing. “But I hurt you.”

Armin could only stare back up at him, at a loss for words. His mind spun its wheels uselessly. After everything, _that’s_ what Eren was worried about?

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

He hadn’t really meant for that to come out, but something between his brain and his mouth seemed to have broken somewhere along the way.

“Huh?” Eren’s expression registered shock, then confusion, then frustration. “Armin, what– no, that’s _my_ line.” The corners of his lips tugged downward. “Look, I’m the one apologizing here, so just– accept it if you’re gonna.”

“But you have nothing to—” He started to protest, but clamped his lips shut at Eren’s glower. “…Fine,” he conceded helplessly, then insisted, “but I’m sorry, too.” His head may have been spinning but he couldn’t let himself bypass the fact that it was ultimately his own fault.

Eren looked lost somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “Nothing can ever be simple with you, can it?” He growled, but there was no malice in his tone.

“No,” Armin agreed simply, still too bewildered to think of any other reply.

Eren sighed, his expression sobering. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he glanced up at the stairs and shook his head.

“You’d better get back to your shift.” Then, more gently, “See you at dinner.”

His warm fingers squeezed slightly at Armin’s and that, at least, Armin knew how to respond to. He tightened his own grip almost instinctively, clinging to that single point of certainty. His head began to clear enough for him to start organizing his thoughts.

“Yeah. See you then.”

He pulled away reluctantly and started up the stairs. When he reached the first landing he glanced back. Eren was still standing there, broom propped loosely against his shoulder, watching him go and looking like he was struggling with something internally. Armin quickly looked away and continued the rest of the way up, murmuring an apology to his fellow guard as he resumed his post a few minutes late. He stared out at the trees, less unhappy than before but twice as confused.

If Eren was apologizing for the other night, it must mean that he felt bad about getting upset. And that, in turn, must mean that he also valued their friendship more than the past incident… right? If that was indeed the case, it was a huge relief. But why had he seemed so confused at Armin’s admission of his own guilt? It was almost like Eren couldn't comprehend it, and he’d even tried to turn it back onto himself. Armin’s heart began to quicken without his permission. Maybe Eren really hadn’t thought as much of the incident as Armin had expected him to. But no, if it wasn’t a big deal to him, what about his clear discomfort immediately following it, or when it had been called to attention the other night? Was it in reaction to Armin’s own visible distress? Or could it actually be that–?

No. No no no. Armin shook himself out of it and furiously willed his heart to slow. He was not going to go there, he was _not_ going to think himself into false hopes and risk starting another mess that would inevitably cause even more damage. He’d kept his feelings (mostly) in check all these years, what was the rest of his life? It probably wouldn’t be very long anyway. Eren didn’t need to know that the cause of that single mistake had been anything deeper than just two hormonal teenagers getting caught up and carried away by drunken revelry and the euphoria of victory.

He schooled himself back into focus. In the end, all that mattered was that Eren still loved him in the same sense he always had. That was all Armin needed. Right now, he had other things to think about – the balloon. The balloon that would help humanity, if they could get it right. The balloon that could take them to the ocean. To the ocean, together.

Armin took a deep breath. He squeezed his empty hand. He focused.

\--

Hanji slumped back in their chair with a sigh, glasses pushing up over their brow as they rubbed their eyes. Once again, the day had been an unproductive one.

“We’re so close, I can _feel_ it,” the Squad Leader groaned from between their fingers. “There’s just something we’re missing. What is it we’re missing?”

Armin couldn’t answer. Hanji dismissed him for the night and he tidied up his workspace a bit, even as his superior hunched back over their own documents. He felt a pang of guilt at leaving them to work alone, even if they did refuse to let him stay past curfew.

He was less startled this time when he stepped out of the lab and found someone waiting for him. The glow of a lantern attracted Armin’s attention as the door swung shut behind him – but tonight it was Eren, not Mikasa.

“Eren? What are you doing here?” He asked in surprise.

The other boy shrugged and pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on, in almost the exact spot his sister had waited a few days ago. “I dunno. I came to… walk you back, I guess.” He gestured with the lantern. “‘S dark out,” he finished gruffly.

“Oh… thanks.” Armin blinked at his strange attitude. Eren had been fine during dinner – despite their odd parting that afternoon, they’d sat beside each other for the first time since Solfeld, much to Mikasa’s subtle but unmistakable relief. But now he seemed a little nervous about something. They set off across the dark field, their sleeves brushing occasionally.

“So, um,” Eren began, his voice cutting abruptly through the still air. “Wanna do something? I mean–” He shook his head, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I guess it’s past curfew so there’s not much we _can_ do without getting caught. Maybe just sit somewhere. Er, but if you’d rather just go to bed that’s fine, you’re probably tired…” His rambling trailed off and he looked at the dark grass beneath their boots. Then his gaze shifted up to meet Armin’s. “I just… I’ve missed you.”

Armin had to look away as affection swelled in his chest, bubbling up into his throat. He studied his hands, linked in front of him. They’d get scolded if they were caught out past curfew, and he probably _should_ get to bed… they both had drills in the morning, after all. But… well, he probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a while, anyway, and Eren just looked so tentatively hopeful…

“If we sit behind the woodshed,” he murmured, glancing shyly back up, “we should be just out of the way enough to go unnoticed.” He couldn’t help his small smile as Eren’s eyes lit up.

They proceeded past the watchtower into the courtyard, then Eren concealed the lantern under his cloak and they slipped unseen back out to the woodshed. They ducked behind the structure and Eren pulled the lantern from his cloak, shaking out his arm and making a face. “Man, that gets hot.”

“Well, there _is_ a lit flame in there,” Armin reasoned. They settled down in the grass against the back wall, the lantern set between them. His eyes lingered on it for a moment. It was a newer model than what they’d used for the balloon prototypes, brighter and sturdier and less of a fire hazard. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but his grasp on it slipped away when Eren spoke.

“Shame there’s no stars tonight, huh.” He had drawn his knees up loosely and was gazing at the sky. Armin followed suit and looked up at the dark blanket of clouds, so thick that even the moon couldn’t pierce it.

“Yeah,” he agreed, remembering the occasions back in training when they’d slipped out to stargaze, and the times even before that. Eren must have been remembering the same thing, and the glance they shared was almost conspiratorial. The simple familiarity of the moment settled something inside Armin.

“I wonder if it’s gonna rain.”

“I dunno.” Armin observed the clouds again, but it was too dark to see their shapes. “It’s lucky for us we’ve had a dry spring so far, though. We couldn’t have run our test flights in the rain.”

“Yeah…” he felt Eren’s gaze on him briefly. “Any idea how much longer you’ll be on special duty for that?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say. It depends on whether we can even get this engine figured out. If we manage that, then we’ll have to construct the full-scale model, which will take a while since it’s going to be so big. Then we’ll have to run tests with that… If it actually works and we can get the funding, we should be able to send blueprints to people who can manufacture future models for us, so we don’t have to do it all ourselves.”

“So… pretty long, then.” Eren sighed a little. “Well, I guess it’ll be worth it.”

“I hope so.”

“Think Hanji will let me ride in the balloon?” His tone lightened.

“If we can incorporate it into our expeditions, I’m sure you’ll get a chance sooner or later. Although, you’re much more valuable on the ground.” Armin cast him a teasing glance.

“Damn, I never get to have fun.”

“Such is the price of greatness.”

“You think I’m great, huh?” Eren puffed out his chest in mock pride.

“The greatest, if by that you just mean big. You don’t even need to ride in the balloon, your Titan form is tall enough as it is.” Armin snorted lightly.

“Well in that case I could just carry you.”

“You’ll need both hands to punch Titans, though.”

“So ride on my shoulder.”

“Nah, I’ll scout ahead from the air. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about what I see when we find a safe place to camp.”

Eren scoffed. “You just want the view all to yourself.”

Armin couldn’t help but smile. “Really, though, we’ll get you up there at some point. Just imagine what the world will look like from so high up, even higher than the Walls…”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Eren replied softly.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed between them. Armin stared out at the dark silhouette of the forest and breathed the cool night air. He was a little chilly without a cloak, but he didn’t let himself show it. However chilly he was, however much the backs of his eyelids throbbed with the dull ache of exhaustion, he felt more peaceful now than he had all week.

He heard Eren fidgeting beside him. “Armin,” he began, and the discomfort in his tone pulled Armin’s mind out of the state of relaxation it had been about to settle into. Returning to alertness, he looked over to see Eren frowning at his knees, his lips pressed into a hard line. Armin felt his heart begin to pick up speed, thudding nervously in his chest.

“Look, so,” Eren said, his voice coming out stilted and awkward as he forced out the words. “Um, I just wanted to… I mean, I know things have been kind of fucked up lately, and… _Shit!”_

The last part came as a panicked hiss as he turned to face Armin and knocked the lantern over with his elbow. Both of them grabbed for it instinctively, but it toppled with a light thud into the grass between them… where the flame sputtered and died, plunging them into darkness.

“Fuck,” came the voice beside him, a little shaky. “I thought that was gonna start a fire.”

Armin shook his head, remembering belatedly that Eren probably couldn’t see him. “Not this model, the airflow to the flame gets cut off when it tips.” He began to ramble on in an effort to mask the fact that he felt like his ribcage was full of bees. “See, the ventilation holes in the top let air in, which circulates through the tubes around the lantern and feeds back into the globe to make the flame burn brighter, and—” Something suddenly clicked in his head, and his words broke off abruptly. The air circulated through tubes around the lantern. The air heated as it passed through the tubes. The heated air fed back down to the flame to make it burn brighter.

“Armin?”

“Eren, I – I think that’s it!” The revelation swept up his mind, washing over his anxiety.

“What’s it?” Eren’s voice was thick with confusion.

“The lantern! The engine!” He was babbling again, groping in the grass where he thought the lantern was. His fingers brushed a hard metal surface, and his grip closed around the lantern’s handle. “Eren, sorry, I have to go – can I take this? I’ll see you tomorrow!” He scrambled to his feet. He could hear Eren following suit in bewilderment.

“Y-yeah, see you…”

But Armin was already off, running across the dark field towards the pinpricks of light still flickering in the windows of Hanji’s lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Eren in this chapter. I hope this thing is reading kind of smoothly and that I'm managing to keep the characterization consistent and believable... dialogue is pretty hard for me (as I'm sure you can tell) and there was a lot of it in this one. Hm.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading this far, I hope you're finding it enjoyable! I'm having a ton of fun writing it, and it blows my mind that I've somehow managed to surpass 50,000 words on this fic. I've been pouring a ton of time and love into it so any comments really mean a lot to me. Please feel free to tell me what you think!


	12. Lull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa heads out, Armin is tired, and things are still a little bit awkward.

“You should get to bed early tonight, Armin,” Mikasa was saying as he and Eren helped her saddle up her horse. “Since you finally have a night without overtime. And make sure Eren eats his dinner, and doesn’t just pick around the vegetables.”

“Oh come on, you know I don't do that anymore,” Eren protested with a groan as she gave an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Don’t worry,” Armin reassured her with a small smile. “I think we’ll be able to manage for a week.” He and Eren shared a brief glance. “But you take care, too – stay warm, okay? I don’t think they’ve fixed the drafts in the Breach Guard barracks yet.”

“I’ll be alright,” Mikasa replied, her hand moving unconsciously to brush the scarf looped around her neck. She fiddled with a clasp on the bridle, then frowned and pulled it off her patient horse. “Eren, could you run to the barn and log out a spare bridle? The buckle on mine seems to be damaged.”

“’Course. Back in a sec.” He accepted the bridle and darted out of the stables.

A comfortable silence descended over the remaining pair for a moment. As Armin double-checked the saddle cinches, he let the other sounds wash over him – the shuffling and snorting and stomping of the stalled horses, the clink of buckles as the other two soldiers headed to Breach Guard prepared for departure down the aisle, the idle chatter of the stable-hands. The air in here was warm with the large animals' heat, and smelled of hay and manure. There was something peaceful about it, though, and it lulled Armin as it seeped through his brain.

“So,” Mikasa began, and he blinked himself back to alertness. “You two have worked things out, then?”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Yeah. Well… sort of? It’s back to normal, at least.”

Mikasa narrowed her eyes, tugging the creases out of the saddle blanket. “You haven’t talked to him.”

He faltered under her disappointment. “Not really, I guess.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “But it might be better that way.”

“I told you I don’t want to have to keep watching you two dance around each other.”

He blinked at her. “But we’re not anymore.”

She shot him a look that clearly said otherwise. “Just… talk to him. I want to see this all over and done with by the time I come back next week.”

Armin sighed and rubbed at his eyelids with the back of his wrist. He was too tired to want to think about this right now. “We might _be_ over and done with if we do talk about it,” he retorted, a little sharper than he’d meant to.

“I seriously doubt that, Armin.”

He looked up to reply, but saw Eren coming back in. So instead he checked the saddle again, taking a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to be arguing, anyway.

“Got it,” Eren said, handing over the new bridle. “The stablemaster said she’ll have yours fixed by the time you get back.”

Mikasa nodded her thanks, quickly and efficiently slipping it over her horse’s head. When she finished adjusting it, the trio led the mare outside to wait for the other soldiers to join up.

“You should probably get to your chores,” Mikasa said, though a subtle hint of reluctance had slipped into her tone. “So you don’t get in trouble for being late.”

“Yeah…” Eren agreed with a grimace, stepping forward to give her a tight hug. “Take care of yourself. Don’t die of boredom.”

Armin was right behind him. “We’ll miss you,” he said sincerely as he squeezed Mikasa’s shoulders. She returned the grip firmly. “Have a safe trip.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she murmured against his hair. She pulled away, and swung gracefully up onto her horse. Mikasa looked down at the two of them, concern and fondness brimming in her typically cool eyes. “Don’t get into any trouble without me.”

Armin could feel her gaze following them as he and Eren started back towards the courtyard. A week was a long time to spend in that cold, lonely place, and it would be strange to have her missing. He felt the sudden urge to reach for Eren’s hand, but he resisted.

As he partially zoned out, his foot slipped into a slight divot in the grass and he stumbled. Luckily, he managed to catch himself and save a little of his pride.

“Woah,” Eren retracted his hands, having instinctively reached out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Armin replied, feeling himself turn a little pink. “I just spaced out a little, is all.”

“You look really tired.” Eren frowned. “Are you still worried about the engine stuff?”

Armin gave a noncommittal shrug. “I wouldn’t say _worried_ , exactly… Well, maybe a little. It’s just kind of hard to get something out of your head when you’ve spent so much time focusing on it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Eren gave a wry smile.

“And I guess I haven’t had time to recover from the other night, yet, either.”

After he’d had the lantern epiphany, Armin and Hanji had spent a good portion of the night frantically redrawing their designs. Hanji had made him go back to the barracks eventually, but not before they’d lost track of time and dawn was almost upon them. Somehow he’d survived drills, and the rest of the day had been spent single-mindedly poring over their diagrams, checking and double-checking and triple-checking, making _absolutely sure_ each theory, each measurement, each calculation was sound, making final adjustments, then checking and double-checking and triple-checking those, too. Even when they’d finalized everything, it all kept reeling ceaselessly through Armin’s head. The previous late night hadn’t stopped him from lying awake for hours in bed, plagued by concerns of _what if we missed something_ or _what if it really doesn’t work after all_ , the drawings and calculations a constant undercurrent of his thoughts. But he sure was feeling the repercussions today. On the bright side, at least that meant that he was too exhausted to actively worry too much about the engine, at least until he was reminded of it. Like right now.

“Yeah, you really seemed to work yourself to the ground with that. So did Hanji’s body finally give out?” Eren half-joked. “I didn’t see them at lunch before.”

“No, they went with Commander Erwin to the recruitment ceremony,” Armin reminded him. “That’s today.”

“Oh, right, I forgot about that. I wonder how many new recruits we’ll get this year.”

“I’m sure a handful, at least. Though I doubt as many as last year.” The recruitment boom they’d seen just after recapturing Maria was already beginning to dwindle.

They reached the courtyard. “Ah, shit,” Eren swore, and Armin looked up to see Levi prowling in the distance. “We’d better get a move on. See you later, ‘kay?” His knuckles brushed Armin’s before he took off towards the bell tower at a jog.

“See you.” Armin couldn’t help his tiny smile as he continued on to the main building.

Luckily, his overseeing officer didn’t give him too hard a time for being a few minutes late. He settled down with the few other soldiers at a long table in one of the meeting rooms, and began helping to sort through the month’s records. It was kind of nice to be able to focus his energies on something new for the day, but on the other hand, the tedium of checking numbers and sorting logs weighed down on his tired brain. He caught himself staring blankly at the pages a few times, and he almost put a file in the wrong stack more than once. He scolded himself back into shape each time – he had a job to do, whether he was tired or not.

\--

Hanji nearly barreled into him as he rounded the corner on his way to the mess hall for dinner.

“Oh! Sorry, Armin, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” the Squad Leader apologized, catching their balance after the sudden stop.

“I’m sorry, neither was I.” He greeted his superior with a salute. “You’re back early – did the recruitment go so quickly?” He frowned a little in concern. He hadn’t expected them back until the next day… did that mean there were no new recruits this year?

But Hanji shook their head, seeming to read his thoughts. “Nah, Erwin and the others are still over there. We got a nice handful this year! I helped with the briefing and then came back by myself. I wanted to stop by Solfeld to see if our canopy materials had come in yet, since it was nearby.” They sagged. “They haven’t, though. I’ll check again tomorrow.”

“Hopefully they’ll get here soon,” Armin worried. “It’s a big shipment, so it makes sense that it would be a little slow, but…” He hoped nothing had happened to it. A wagon full of such fine, expensive cloth would be a huge temptation for bandits.

“I’m sure it’ll be any day now,” Hanji reassured. “Oh, and I sent a missive to the military steelworker this morning, to deliver our blueprints. So the engine will be in development while we’re hopefully putting the canopy together.” They heaved a dreamy sigh. “Man, I wish I could’ve gone to watch the process and make any last-minute tweaks. I’m needed here, though, alas.”

Armin felt another pang of nervousness at the mention of the engine, but he reminded himself that at this point it was out of their hands. He just hoped they hadn’t rushed their final decisions too much and missed some fatal flaw. “How long do you expect that will take?” He asked instead, masking his misgivings.

“Hmm,” Hanji considered. “That’s hard to say. I’ve never had something this complicated made before. But our steelworkers are incredibly skilled – the maneuver gear is proof of that.” They gave him a confident grin. “So I guess the answer is, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I understand.” He suddenly had to stifle a huge yawn. “Ah – excuse me…”

The Squad Leader chuckled. “All tuckered out, huh? I don’t blame you, I’ve been working you hard.” They reached out and gave his hair a brief ruffle, much to his bemusement. “Go get on with your evening, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Not at all, I’m the one who started asking questions. I hope I didn’t hold you up.”

“So deferential! Go on, get out of here.” They shooed him away good-naturedly and started off in the other direction. “I’ll let you know when the materials come in!” They called over their shoulder.

Armin couldn’t help his small smile as he resumed his walk to the mess hall. He’d certainly assisted with some of Hanji’s projects over the years, but typically in groups, and never for such an extended period of time in such constantly close quarters. The scientist was usually pretty friendly, if somewhat over-exuberant, but now their attitude seemed somehow more affectionate. Then again, he supposed that was natural. There was a kind of special camaraderie in pouring so much time and energy into a collaborative project like this. At the very least, he was glad that it hadn’t turned in the opposite direction and ended up with them constantly butting heads and getting on each other’s nerves… not that he would purposefully aggravate his direct superior.

Dinner was normal, for the most part. Sasha and Connie goofed off as usual, Eren and Jean bickered as usual, and Armin spaced out as usual… although that was a habit he was hoping to fix, and today at least it was out of exhaustion rather than stress. But the empty space on Eren’s other side somehow seemed to leave things a bit off-balance.

They all wandered over to the lounge in the main building after mess, Armin following almost automatically in his slight daze and Eren tagging along at his side. It was a little odd to have a night off after so much time spent devoting every spare minute to extra lab work. Sleepiness nagged at his brain, but it seemed like a waste to just go to bed. The group managed to find a spot around a coffee table before the room got too crowded.

“Anybody up for a round of cards?” Connie asked, producing a deck from his pocket and looking around at them, waggling his eyebrows.

“Still haven’t learned your lesson, huh?” Sasha gave him a predatory grin.

“Hey, I’m getting better! I’ll beat you one of these days, and then you’ll be sorry. Armin, how about it? Now that you finally have a night off…”

“I think I’ll pass,” Armin declined apologetically, sinking onto a stiff couch. Eren settled in beside him. “I don’t think I’d be able to focus very well tonight.”

“If you say so. Eren?”

“Eren never plays, he’s too much of a wuss,” Jean goaded.

“You should be glad for that, Jeanbo, that makes one less person against you,” Eren replied with a snort.

Armin suppressed a smile. Just a couple of years ago, Eren would have easily risen snapping to that bait, but tonight he seemed content to just sit by and watch. He’d grown up a lot – the thought made something twinge in Armin’s chest. Pride? Nostalgia? He couldn’t quite identify it.

The other three dealt their cards and began the game. Armin half-paid attention, letting their laughter, their complaints, and Eren’s occasional unhelpful comments wash over him. He felt himself settling into a state of blankness he hadn’t been capable of in… he didn’t even remember how long. It must be the exhaustion getting to him. He wasn’t usually one to let his guard down so much in such a crowded, public space. Even if he could feel Eren’s heat radiating across the short distance between them… Though even in his somewhat hazy state, he knew better than to give in to his desire to lean over and close that distance. He kept his increasingly heavy torso propped firmly against the back of the couch. He felt another twinge in his chest, and this time he recognized it – bitterness. At one point in time he wouldn’t have thought twice about using Eren’s shoulder as a pillow.

Mikasa’s words drifted into his mind. _Just talk to him._ In all honesty, he knew he should. Even if things had gone back to normal between them for now, there remained the possibility that something could throw them off again. Talking about the issue wouldn’t absolve Armin of guilt, wouldn’t make him stop beating himself up over it, but at least he would be able to express how sorry he really was and reassure Eren that it would never happen again. And then maybe they could properly put the matter behind them instead of getting all tense and upset whenever it was brought back to their attention.

…If Eren was still willing to do so, anyway. Armin glanced over at him. He was egging Jean on, trying to distract him – there was no trace of discomfort in his posture or his expression, close to Armin as he was. Armin was beginning to believe Mikasa’s assurance that the situation wasn’t as bad as he thought – Eren’s recent behavior wouldn’t really make sense if it was – but he clung stubbornly to the possibility of a negative outcome. The worst thing would be to approach him with the confidence that they’d come out of it okay, only to have it blow up in his face.

Right. He needed to hope for the best while expecting the worst. The best being, of course, that Eren still wanted to be friends with him when all was said and done. There was no way Armin was even going to consider the possibility that it could’ve all been some big misunderstanding. That Eren somehow, maybe, inexplicably, had similar feelings. That he might be able to cuddle against Eren guilt-free… to intertwine their fingers without the awful, dull ache in his chest… to feel the press of those soft lips against his own again… to shamelessly drink in this warmth… so warm…

“Wow, Armin, you really _are_ tired.”

Jean’s voice pulled him out of his doze. He blinked to reorient himself, becoming aware of Jean making a face, Sasha grinning behind her cards, and Connie looking on in mild confusion. He came to the slow realization that he’d listed to the side… and ended up doing exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. He hurriedly pushed himself off of Eren, feeling his cheeks coloring in shame as well as embarrassment. He rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to mask it.

“Whoops… I guess I am,” Armin agreed sheepishly, stealing a glance at Eren. He didn’t seem perturbed, though his cheeks looked a little pink as well. It must be the lighting, Armin reasoned. “I should probably go to bed after all.” He stood up from the couch a little too quickly, catching the back of Connie’s chair to stop himself from wobbling as he was hit by a brief wave of dizziness.

“No worries,” Sasha assured him with a smile. “You get a good night’s rest, okay?”

“I’m gonna turn in early too, I think,” Eren decided, standing up beside him. Armin glanced over in surprise, but not before he caught the look that passed between Sasha and Jean.

They bade the rest of the group goodnight and left them to their game. Armin looked up at Eren as they stepped out of the noisy room and into the quieter hallway. “Are you not feeling well?” He ventured to ask.

“Nah, I just don’t really feel like hanging out if both you _and_ Mikasa are gone,” Eren replied with a shrug. “No offense to them, but… I’d rather just go to bed.”

“Oh. Sorry… I finally have a night off, and I’m too tired to actually do anything.” Eren’s words from the other night drifted across his mind. _I’ve missed you._ He sighed dejectedly.

“It’s nothing for you to feel bad about,” Eren reassured, waving off his apology. “You’re back on a normal schedule until the next phase of your project starts, right? So if you get some rest tonight, maybe we can do something together tomorrow instead. If you want.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Armin said sincerely, even as his stomach gave a nervous flip. He hadn’t forgotten their unfinished conversation from the other night, and the way Eren was raking his hand nervously through his hair right now said that he was probably remembering the same thing.

They reached the juncture of the hallway where their paths split, and both of them paused naturally.

“Well,” Armin began, at the same time Eren said, “Hey, so—”

They both stopped to let the other continue, and Armin couldn’t help his tired giggle at the short, clumsy silence that followed. Eren’s lips stretched into a small, gentle smile of his own.

“You go,” Armin prompted, grateful for the laughter to mask his sudden breathlessness. “I was just gonna say goodnight.”

Green eyes drifted to the floor for a moment, then back up to Armin. “Well, I…” He trailed off. It was hard to hold his gaze, the bright, serious orbs probing into Armin’s, searching and intent. The silence seemed to stretch between them, but there was something different about this tension. There was no weight to it. Armin’s heart began to pump harder. He remembered this sensation. He steeled himself against his own weakness, reminding himself that it was all in his head. It must be. It must be.

“…I hope you sleep well,” Eren finally said, looking back down, and the atmosphere seemed to deflate, hanging heavily around them. But almost as an afterthought, he reached over to ruffle Armin’s hair. It was the same gesture that Hanji had used earlier, but Eren’s fingers caught gently in the golden strands. Armin felt the slightest brush of warm fingertips against his cheek as the dark hand withdrew.

He swallowed. “…Thanks.” A breath. “You, too.”

Eren turned, and Armin caught the flash of what looked like an almost bitter smile as he started down the hall. Armin felt the sudden, vicious urge to chase after him, wrap around him, cling fiercely to his warmth and solid comfort, and never let him go.

He had to physically force himself to turn and head towards the main door. It must be the exhaustion, he told himself. It must be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a slow chapter this time. Or maybe most of this has been kind of slow. But things are gonna start picking up in the next chapter, so stay tuned! ;D Thank you so much for reading~!


	13. Sting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survey Corps' new recruits have arrived, and it's a routine day. At least until Armin has a jarring encounter out in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: minor violence, mentions of blood

“Oh, hey, those must be the new recruits,” Jean remarked, pausing in his cooldown stretches to look off towards the courtyard. Following his gaze, Armin noticed the small herd of youths trailing after Commander Erwin, their backs emblazoned with crisp new Wings of Freedom.

“Is that all of them?” Connie complained. “Damn, we’re all gonna end up on constant double-duty if the recruitment rate keeps dropping.”

“This is still pretty good, though,” Eren said. “It looks like there are, what, at least ten of them? Before Maria it was a real worry whether the Survey Corps would get any new members at all.”

The recruits were looking around at the modest block of buildings as Erwin led them through on their tour. They were too far to make out their expressions, but it wasn’t hard to imagine – every new batch seemed to have repeating patterns. Some people would look crestfallen as their visions of noble grandeur fell away to the humble reality. Others would seem numb or shaken as the true weight of their choice settled firmly on their shoulders. Armin’s gaze drifted over to Eren, who had already gone back to his stretches. If the Survey Corps was lucky, there would be one or two recruits who weren’t disheartened by the shabby base, whose eyes still glimmered with resolve.

Armin wondered which category he had fallen into, five years ago. Maybe none – it was hard to say. He’d been so anxious to see Eren after the wreckage that was the Battle of Trost and the near-disaster of the tribunal. He felt like he’d barely had time to take anything in through his horribly frayed nerves. And then they’d all been thrown into the whirlwind of their first expedition… with so much to do, there had barely been time to think about anything else. Armin supposed he should be glad for that, since it meant that there wasn’t time to second-guess his choices. Not that he would. But this year’s recruits would have more downtime before their first expedition, and a routine one at that. Of course, they’d be starting chores immediately, but there was a lot more room for regret in menial tasks you’d been doing for years already.

The recruits were already gathered at a table in the corner when the full-fledged soldiers finally arrived in the mess hall for lunch. Armin and Eren were the first ones to reach their usual spot and they settled in side-by-side. They were both silent for a moment, as if waiting for the other to speak.

“So, um—” Eren began, but the rest of the group’s arrival cut him off.

“Man, remember when we were like that?” Sasha said, nodding towards the huddled recruits who looked around at the chattering soldiers with a combination of terror and awe.

“We were too busy to be like that,” Jean scowled as he joined them.

“Maybe. But we always used to stick together during meals, too, before we knew anybody else.”

“Not like anything’s changed there,” he scoffed, eyes flicking over the members of the tiny group.  _ Except for our shrinking numbers. _ Nobody said it, but a brief silence fell over the table.

“Ooh, looks like you’ve been recognized, Eren.” Sasha quickly changed the subject with a wry smile, looking somewhere behind Eren. He and Armin instinctively looked back over their shoulders in time to see a few recruits’ heads whip back around, but one or two of them stared openly.

“Great,” Eren grimaced, turning back around with a sigh. “I can’t wait to get bombarded with questions the moment they get over being shy.”

“I thought you’d be used to the attention by now,” teased Sasha.

“It gets old real fast.”

Armin reached for Eren’s shoulder, but reconsidered halfway through and awkwardly tucked his hair behind his ear, instead. “Maybe this batch will be too intimidated to bother you,” he suggested, trying to sound more optimistic than he felt.

“I can only hope,” Eren grumbled. But it didn’t seem likely. The recruits kept sending less-than-subtle glances their way for the rest of lunch. Privately, Armin gave it ‘til dinner before one of them plucked up the nerve to approach Eren, and thereby open the floodgates.

As they stepped out of the mess hall, Eren looked up and frowned. “Shit. I hope it doesn’t rain.”

Armin followed his gaze. The sky was a smooth expanse of pale gray, and the air felt noticeably heavier than it had during drills. “It sure looks like it,” he said. “It’s impressive how fast the weather can change.”

Eren seemed disgruntled about something, but Jean spoke first. “Yeah, yeah, nature’s glory, blah blah, that won’t keep us warm at night. You’d better hurry before all the kindling gets soaked, Armin.”

“Right.” He was on firewood duty today. “See you later, Eren.”

“See ya.”

Eren hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it and turned abruptly. Armin felt a little twinge of… was it disappointment, or anxiety? He cast his eyes down at the cobblestone as he set off in the opposite direction, and tried to put it from his mind.

One of the recruits, a somewhat androgynous brunette girl, joined up with him as he signed out his hatchet and firewood sling. She gave him a terse smile as she collected her own equipment and they started across the field in silence. Armin felt like he should say something.

“Hi,” he began, figuring that an introduction was as good a place as any to start. “My name’s Armin Arlert. What's yours?” He tried to put her at ease with a smile, remembering all too well how intimidating the senior soldiers had seemed when he was a recruit.

“I’m Ida Orwel,” she replied. She didn’t salute, but she glanced over at him, and Armin thought he saw a spark of interest in her gaze. “Um, how far into the woods do we have to go?”

“Not very,” Armin assured as they approached the edge of the forest. “We just need to follow this path a little ways in. The woodcutting spot is impossible to miss, so don’t worry about getting lost.”

Orwel made a little noise of acknowledgement and fell silent again. Armin led the way anyway, following the beaten path through the underbrush to a partially-cleared spot littered with fallen branches and dotted with tree stumps. He got to work and Orwel followed suit a little more slowly. He glanced over as he propped a segment of a log up on a stump. Something about her seemed… not familiar, exactly, but almost like he’d seen her somewhere before. He wracked his memory, but he couldn’t recall anything that seemed likely.

“Where are you from?” Armin asked, hoping to make her feel comfortable but also wondering if her answer would give him a hint.

“Krolva District,” Orwel answered brusquely, her hatchet coming down with a  _ thwack _ on her own log. It split cleanly in two. She didn’t seem too keen on elaborating. But Armin saw her curious glance flick up to him again. “Hey, was that Eren Jaeger you were sitting with before?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he replied, a little awkwardly. He could see where this was going.

“Really?” Her eyebrows arched up. “Are you friends with him?”

“Yeah,” he said again, focusing on splitting his own log. It wasn’t quite as uniform as Orwel’s – even after years of practice, the hatchet still felt a little heavy and awkward in his hands. But at least he was capable enough not to completely embarrass himself with it anymore.

“Wow.” She seemed impressed, and paused to look at him for a moment. “What’s he like? How long have you known him?”

“He’s… really dedicated,” Armin replied. “Don’t let all the sensationalist news from the interior fool you into being afraid of him. I’ve known him since we were kids, you’ll be fine as long as you’re on humanity’s side.”

Her eyes went wide. “So are you from the same district, then? From Shiganshina?”

“Yeah.”

“Man.” Orwel’s shoulders slumped. “That must really suck. I mean, we’ve retaken Maria, but you still can’t get back to your hometown.”

Armin sighed. “Yeah… who knows how much closer to victory we’d be if we’d been able to get to Eren’s basement.”

“Well, yeah, but not just that,” Orwel amended. “It was your  _ home. _ There must’ve been a lot you had to leave behind.”

Armin frowned, considering this. “I suppose.” He fell into a moment of quiet contemplation. Of course, there was a lot he missed, but he had the feeling that most of that was tied to a nostalgia of the place itself, the memory of simpler, more innocent times. He’d never had too many possessions - the book was the only thing he’d really cared about, and he was grateful he’d somehow managed to hold onto it despite everything. But even that paled in comparison to the rush of pure relief he’d felt on that boat when he saw Eren and Mikasa passed onto the deck. “I was lucky enough to make it out with the really important things,” he heard himself murmur.

“I see,” Orwel replied quietly.

A cool breeze rustled through the leaves above them, and Armin shook himself out of it. As he straightened up he saw Orwel quickly looking away. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’d better hurry up, in case it starts raining.”

“I guess so.”

They fell silent as they focused on the task at hand. Orwel worked almost as slowly as Armin, though more as a result of taking her time. She shuffled around the clearing as she gathered logs, and paused to yawn as she loaded the chopped firewood into her sling. Armin foresaw a lecture from Levi about efficiency in her future.

Armin returned from a trip to the woodshed to find Orwel hefting her own full sling onto her back. “You said this is all we need, right?” She asked. She seemed a little more motivated now that the end was in sight.

“Yep! After you take that back, all we’ll need to do is gather up some kindling,” he replied.

“Cool.” Her eyes landed on their hatchets, propped against a tree stump. “I guess I’ll take these back too, then. Unless we’ll still need them?”

“No, not for this,” Armin said. She nodded and picked up the hatchets, setting off down the path with her boots scuffing through the dirt. Armin set about scouring the area for smaller sticks and broken branches. At least now he didn’t have to focus on not accidentally chopping his own foot off.

Before his mind could wander too far, though, his attention was caught by a rustling noise… from the wrong direction to be Orwel. He turned swiftly, scanning the woods, his mind suddenly clear and alert. He caught a glimpse of a shadow among the trees and he tensed, his skin prickling.

“Who’s there?” He called, glad that his voice didn’t betray his alarm as it rang authoritatively through the clearing. He was suddenly very aware of how alone he was. Orwel was probably just crossing the field to the woodshed now – it would take her at least another three or four minutes to get back, or more, considering the pace she’d been moving at.

The rustling paused at the sound of his voice, but only for a moment. When it resumed, it was at a faster pace, heading right for Armin. There was no mistaking the sound of footsteps crunching over layers of dead leaves and twigs. He backed up to the opposite edge of the small clearing, dropping his kindling except for one of the longer, sturdier sticks. He wished he hadn’t let Orwel take the hatchets. He took steady, controlled breaths, despite his racing heart.

A man staggered out from between the trees, filthy and ragged, with a wild beard. His torn clothes draped in layers over his body. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself on a low branch. He stared wide-eyed at Armin from beneath his matted hair, his gaze sliding from Armin’s face to the emblem on his jacket, and back to his face.

“Help,” the man croaked. He started to stagger forward again, but Armin threw his hand out.

“Stop,” he commanded sharply, not letting his guard down. The man obeyed, a flurry of dead leaves settling around his moccasin-clad feet. Armin remembered his protocol. “This is restricted military property. Identify yourself.”

“I’m just a peddler,” the man said, his voice gravelly. He raised his hands pleadingly, palms out. “Please, I was captured by bandits. I managed to escape but I need help, I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept,  _ please _ —” He began to stumble forward again but Armin backed away, keeping the stick raised cautiously between them.

His mind raced. This could be a trap. The man’s layers of rags hid his build, not to mention they could conceal any number of weapons. He cast a quick glance towards the path, but it was still too soon for there to be any sign of Orwel’s return. The officers would need to be informed if this man was telling the truth and bandits were in the area. If he was lying… well, the officers still needed to be informed that bandits were in the area, but it put Armin at significantly more immediate risk. He needed to either stall for time, or get back out into the open.

“Listen,” he said, slowly and clearly, maintaining the distance between them. “I can take you to the military base nearby. We can help you there.”

“Oh,  _ thank you, _ ” the man began, throwing himself to his knees on the ground before him.

“ _ But, _ ” Armin cut him off. “You’re going to need to do as I say. Is that clear?” The man nodded silently, staring up at him wide-eyed. If this was a trap, it was entirely possible that there were other people lurking in the woods, out of sight. Armin didn’t want to risk waiting for Orwel, or potentially putting her in danger as well.

“Okay. We’re going to walk down that path,” he said, pointing with the stick. “You’re going to go first. You’re going to keep your hands where I can see them, and don’t turn around or make any sudden moves. Understand?”

The man was nodding vehemently. “Thank you, thank you,” he repeated reverently, slowly lifting his trembling hands. He planted a foot in the dirt, knee wobbling under the effort as he began to push himself upright. Armin held his gaze. The man’s eyes were steady.

_ Snap! _

A branch cracked loudly somewhere in the forest behind him. Armin instinctively whipped around to look.

It was a mistake.

The woods were empty. But the moment he turned he heard a rush of dead leaves kicking up. His mind sent split-second waves of frantic signals through his body but his body was too slow. Before he had the chance to reverse his action he felt his arm yanked cruelly back, the stick slipping harmlessly from his fingers as the sudden shock of pain spiked through his nerves and loosened his grip. A large, dirty palm clamped hard over his mouth, muffling his strangled cry.

“Nice try, kid,” a rough voice snickered in his ear. There was no trace of its previous panicked tremor. “That twig wouldn’t have helped you anyway. You’re coming with me,  _ understand?” _ He mocked.

Armin’s breath came hard and fast through his nose, his head ringing with the sound of his pounding heartbeat. The man was strong. Fast.  _ Big. _ Had him by the wrist – by the wrist, but with only one hand. His body seemed to move on its own, years of training flooding through his muscle memory. He reached back with his free hand despite the pain screeching through his nerves, grasped his contorted fingers, forced his arm down and away from where it was pinned against his back. At the same time he bit down hard on the man’s thumb, ignoring the acrid taste on his tongue. The man was strong but as he shouted in pain his grip slackened ever so slightly. Armin stomped hard on the man’s toes for good measure, the studded heel of his boot slamming down on soft faded leather. There was a yowled curse and Armin wrenched his wrist free, only to feel the large hand slip around his throat instead and  _ squeeze. _

_ “You little bastard,” _ the voice hissed in his ear, seething with barely-constrained rage.  _ “You’re lucky I have to take you alive.” _

Armin gagged as his airway constricted but he clamped down even harder on the flesh between his teeth. He tasted iron now. His mind honed in on the heavy breathing behind him, pinpointing just where it came from. The edge of his vision was starting to blur. This would be his last chance. He flung his elbow back  _ hard _ and the resounding  _ crunch _ seemed to reverberate through his own nerves. There was a wet, garbled howl and both hands yanked away from Armin. He took his chance and bolted, not daring to look back as he shot into the forest, ducking between trees to try and lose his attacker. He heard a stream of violent curses and the sound of a stumbling runner crashing through the underbrush, but it quickly faded into the distance and all that was left was the sound of his own ragged breathing.

He burst out of the woods beside the trail and kept sprinting now that there were no roots to trip him up. There was no sign of Orwel – he hoped she wasn’t somewhere back on the trail, heading unaware into danger. But he didn’t look back. The back of his neck prickled with the feeling that the man would come charging out of the forest right behind him, wild and furious.

The scattering of buildings grew rapidly closer, an almost surreal promise of safety. Armin had the absurd, fleeting thought that he must be breaking his personal speed record. His lungs finally gave out when he reached the edge of the courtyard, and he had to stop. He bent over his knees, sucking in air through his constricted windpipe. He managed to cast a brief glance over his shoulder at the distant line of trees, looking for anything, any sign of movement, but there was nothing. His arm and throat were still burning.

The base bustled with daily routine. Levi was scolding Orwel a short distance away by the toolsheds – good, so that’s where she was. Passing soldiers glanced at Armin curiously as they hurried about their duties. Everything was normal.

“Hey!”

Armin looked up to see that Levi had spotted him. The Corporal seemed to sense immediately that something was off. He darted over, leaving Orwel to look on in wide-eyed bewilderment. “What happened?” He demanded, his sharp eyes darting over Armin’s frame.

Armin forced himself to straighten into a salute, despite his arm screaming in protest. “There was a bandit in the woods, sir,” he reported. His voice came out a little hoarse. “He tried to attack me while Cadet Orwel was bringing supplies back, but I managed to get away. I didn’t see more than one.”

Levi’s gaze flicked down to Armin’s throat for a moment and his lips pressed into a hard line. “Orwel!” He barked over his shoulder. “Go alert the watch. And don’t let me catch you slacking off again!”

“Yes, sir!” Orwel snapped a salute and darted away with a last disconcerted glance at Armin.

“We need to report this to the Commander.” The Corporal placed a firm hand on Armin’s shoulder – his undamaged one, thankfully – and began to steer him across the courtyard. Levi marched him into the main building and up the stairs, and flung open the door to Erwin’s office without even bothering to knock.

Looking over files at his desk, the Commander’s only reaction was to sigh. “You know, Levi, for as many times as I tell you to…” His gaze drifted up and caught on Armin, and his demeanor changed immediately. He straightened, his brows furrowing. “What happened, Arlert?”

“Sir,” Armin acknowledged, his mind still spinning with adrenaline, and he recounted the incident almost automatically, barely hearing his own words. Erwin pressed for details – what had the man looked like? What made Armin think he was a bandit? His gaze was intent, searching for something Armin couldn’t identify.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Armin said when he was finished. “I tried to be cautious, but I… I let myself get distracted.” He swallowed, remembering the unbelievable speed with which the man had crossed the clearing.

Erwin shook his head. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, sir.” Just a little shaken. He forced a thin smile.

“There’s blood on your sleeve.” Erwin nodded towards his arm. “I take it that’s the attacker’s?”

Armin looked down in surprise to see a dark smear on the elbow of his jacket. For a moment he almost felt the  _ crunch _ of colliding bone again. “Yes, sir. I may have broken his nose.”

The Commander leaned forward. “Did anything he said strike you as strange?”

Armin blinked. Strange? He mentally scanned through the incident again, which was already beginning to blur in his memory.  _ You’re lucky I have to take you alive. _ The words suddenly flashed through his mind – but that wasn’t strange. What use was a dead captive, after all?

“No, sir.” He shook his head.

“I see.” Erwin contemplated him for a moment. “Levi,” he said, his eyes still fixed on Armin. “Take a team and go search the woods. Detain anyone you don’t recognize, and bring them here.”

“Got it.” A look passed between them before Levi turned on his heel and was gone.

“Armin.” Erwin’s gaze turned back to the young soldier, focused and intent. “I want you to think very carefully. Is there anything at all that strikes you as odd about the attacker?”

Armin frowned, considering. “If anything,” he replied after a moment, “it would be that a bandit came so close to a military base alone.”

Erwin nodded. “An unusual thing to do,” he said gravely. “Soldiers typically don’t make very good targets.”

“Right.” The gears were turning in Armin’s head. “If he came alone, it must have been intentional – one person is less likely to be noticed by our patrols than a whole troop.” But something didn’t add up. Bandits usually knew better than to mess with full-fledged soldiers. “Could they be trying to steal intel?” He wondered out loud. His eyes widened. “Have they found out about the balloon?”

Erwin shook his head. “We can’t know for certain. If we’re lucky, Levi’s team will find the suspect, and we can ask him directly. But he’s got a head start on us, and bandits are slippery… if that’s really what he is.” He gave Armin a long, unreadable look before he spoke again. “The one thing I do know is that he underestimated you.” The corners of his lips twitched subtly upwards.

Armin ducked his head. “I just got lucky, sir.”

“Give yourself some credit, soldier.” His smile was a little more pronounced. “You’re dismissed for today. Go clean up and get some rest.”

Armin frowned. “Are you sure? I’m fine, I can finish out the day—”

“That’s an order,” Erwin said firmly, but not unkindly. “Oh… and stay on base until further notice. Don’t go any farther than Hanji’s lab until we know more.”

Armin’s lips snapped shut on his protests. He saluted. “Understood. Thank you, Commander.” As he excused himself from the room, he glimpsed Erwin’s smile fall into a troubled expression, but he didn’t think much of it. He was too busy keeping tight control of his breaths, which were growing short of their own accord. He kept his composure as he made his way stiffly through the building and down the stairs. He managed to duck into an unused back hallway before his knees buckled, and he let himself collapse against the wall, curled into a trembling mess.

His legs tucked up against his chest, he heaved quick, shallow breaths into the cage of his arms. His throat was raw and stinging and his wrist and shoulder throbbed sharply. He grit his teeth. He shouldn’t be reacting like this, not when he faced death on a regular basis, faced literal monsters many times his size. He’d fought humans before too, for Sina’s sake. There was no need for him to get so bent out of shape over this. This was nothing. It was nothing.

He took a few minutes to collect himself, schooling his breathing back to normal and successfully fighting off the heat prickling at his eyes. His limbs still felt a little shaky, but he didn’t let it show as he reemerged into the gray daylight to go draw some water from the well. He felt the stares of passing soldiers, and some of them called out to see if he was alright. Word spread fast in small places – some things never changed.

Armin had a little difficulty pulling the water bucket up – it was as if all his strength had gone into those few seconds of struggle, and now he just felt drained and exhausted. He lugged the water to the relative privacy of the washroom, eager to escape the curiously concerned gazes of his peers. The first thing he did was wash his mouth out, trying to purge the bitter taste of dirt and blood. Even after the taste was gone, his mouth still felt dirty. But he couldn’t help that for now. He peeled off his jacket and took to scrubbing the bloodstain out, instead.

He glanced into the mirror as he straightened up, and his heart plummeted when he saw the blotchy set of harsh bruises adorning the pale skin above his collar. Great. He found himself wishing he was in the habit of wearing a scarf, like Mikasa. Mikasa… she wasn’t here, but god, what he wouldn’t give to be with her or Eren right now.

Armin wrung out his wet jacket sleeve and dumped the sullied water down the pipe. He stared at the empty bucket for a moment and sighed. As sore and exhausted as he was, he wished Erwin hadn’t dismissed him from his duties. The last thing he wanted right now was idle time, with nothing to distract him from the thoughts clattering around in his skull. He didn’t want to sleep – he didn’t think he’d be able to, even if he tried. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to weather the attention of every soldier who passed by, or be forced to recall each detail of the encounter when they inevitably asked what had happened. He just wanted the comfort of a steady presence. But Mikasa was away, and Eren was working.

And so he found himself hurrying past the main building, jacket draped over his arm, head bowed both to avoid eye contact and to hide the marks on his neck. He rounded the corner and was relieved to see the horses milling about the enclosed pasture. But as he drew closer, he didn’t see Nova among them. He reached the fence and looked again, but there was no sign of her. He drooped in disappointment. She must be in the stables getting groomed.

_ “Armin!” _

He looked up, startled, and saw a familiar figure bolting from the stables. The horses looked around in surprise, but saw no threat and went back to their grazing as Eren tore across the field, weaving between them as he cut directly through the grazing pasture. Oh, Armin realized distantly. Eren must be on stable duty today. Had he known that…?

Eren lurched to a halt before him, hands bracing on the fence to stop his momentum. “Are you okay? Levi just rode out with a team a little while ago, and there are all these rumors going around that someone was attacked in the woods, and I…” He fell silent as his eyes drifted down to the bruises on Armin’s throat, and his face contorted with rage.

“I’m okay,” Armin cut in quickly, before he could freak out in earnest. “Really. Just a little bruised. That’s all.”

Something else mingled with the anger in Eren’s expression, something panicked and almost helpless, and suddenly Armin found himself gathered into a tight hug. All the breath went out of him – not because of the sharp pain shooting through his arm at the pressure, or because of the wooden rail digging into his ribs. When was the last time Eren had held him like this, fully and open and unrestrained? It had been years. He buried his face against his best friend’s warm shoulder, tears stinging at his eyes again and threatening to spill over this time. He wished he could  _ live _ like this, with Eren’s arms secure around him, Eren’s heart beating against his own chest.

“I’m so glad you got away.” The voice was little more than a whisper, muffled against Armin’s hair. “God, I don’t know what I’d—” Eren cut himself off, shaking his head a little and tightening his grip. Armin soaked him in, letting his presence wash over his mind and soothe his jumbled thoughts.

After a long few moments, Eren pulled away. Only slightly, though – he stayed as close as the fence between them would allow, and his palms rested on Armin’s shoulders. His lips pressed into a grim line, but his expression was resolute.

“Armin,” he said, his green eyes piercing straight into blue ones. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

_ “Armiiiiiiin!” _

Both boys jolted, Eren’s hands slipping quickly away from Armin’s shoulders as they turned towards the source of the voice. Hanji was sprinting around the fence at them, seemingly out of nowhere. When Armin looked a little farther back, he saw a wagon stopped at a sloppy angle between the stables and the barn. The horse hadn’t even been tethered, and one of the other stablehands was rushing out to it before the excited animal could canter off. Armin hadn’t even heard it approaching – neither had Eren, apparently.

Hanji nearly bowled into him when they skidded to a halt, and he couldn’t help but wince when they exuberantly slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Armin!” They gasped again, lips stretched into a manic grin. “Guess what!”

“Uh… What?” Was the best Armin could manage. His brain was still spinning its wheels, trying to reorient after being thrown off track by Eren’s statement.

“We’ve  _ got it!” _ Hanji cheered, throwing their hands in the air and practically dancing in place. “Our fabrics came in! We can finally start building the balloon! The  _ real balloon!” _ They grabbed him by the wrist – his good one – and started to tug him along. “C’mon, let’s get unloaded and then get to work! We’ve got a lot to do.”

Armin managed a final, baffled glance towards Eren, who gave a helpless shrug and then turned reluctantly to head back to the stables. The Squad Leader chattered on excitedly as the two of them rushed along. Well, it was good to have work to keep himself occupied with… or so Armin told himself. But for some reason, he couldn’t quite shake off a quiet, nagging disappointment at Hanji’s timing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I promised some action, here it finally is! Things are gonna get moving for real in the next couple chapters. Thank you so much to everyone who's still reading and leaving feedback! It makes me really happy to know that there are some people enjoying this long-winded ride. ❤


	14. Illumination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survey Corps base is a rush of activity as they hurry to prepare the balloon and scour the woods for any sign of a threat. Eren and Armin try to find a moment to talk amidst the bustle.

“Mikasa?”

Armin blinked in confusion as he rounded the corner, late for lunch, and saw Mikasa standing outside the mess hall. As soon as she saw him she made a beeline for him, as if she’d been waiting.

“You’re not hurt?” She asked, palms resting lightly on his shoulders as she looked him over. “I heard you were attacked.” Her eyes caught on his throat, not fully covered by his jacket collar, and narrowed into slits.

“What— No, I— I mean, I was, but I’m fine, but—” Armin shook his head, trying to organize his bewildered thoughts. “What are you doing back already? It’s barely been two days since you left for Breach Guard, is— Did something happen?”

But Mikasa looked just as much at a loss. “I don’t know. I just got back. A replacement showed up this morning with orders to send me back to Headquarters, but they didn’t tell me anything. Just that I’m supposed to report to Corporal Levi right after mess.”

“How did you know I’d—?”

“The stablehands were gossiping about it.” She frowned, and he could see the concern melting to relief in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Armin managed a small smile. “It’s good to have you back,” he said. He meant it, but worry nagged at the back of his mind.

They entered the mess hall together. When they settled their trays at their table, the rest of the group gaped, just as taken aback by Mikasa’s unexpected return.

“You’re back early!” Sasha cried. “You’re so lucky, that’s totally unfair!” But she was grinning, and she removed her feet from where they were propped on the opposite bench to make room.

Mikasa explained the situation again, and a brief silence fell as they all considered the information.

“D’you think this has something to do with… y’know, yesterday?” Sasha asked, her eyes flitting over to Armin.

“Sure seems like too much of a coincidence to be one, if you ask me,” Jean muttered darkly, scowling at his plate. “Especially if bandits have decided to start attacking soldiers. We can’t be too careful. Levi’s patrol didn’t find anything yesterday.”

“But why would they do that?” Connie looked perplexed. All eyes turned to Armin, as if they knew that he’d been mulling over the same thing.

“My best guess,” he said quietly, with a slight shake of his head, “is that they’ve found out about the balloon. If it wasn’t just a random freak occurrence, anyway,” he added.

“How, though?”

“Didn’t you see those things flying?” Jean snorted. “They weren’t exactly inconspicuous.”

Armin nodded. There was a wide area of restricted land surrounding headquarters, but bandits weren’t known for following rules. If they had been cutting through the property at any point during the experiments, they might well have seen it for themselves. “There’s also the possibility that somebody may have let it slip while in public.”

Sasha frowned. “Well, don’t worry, Armin. We won’t let them steal it!”

Eren had been silent this whole time. He was just listening to the conversation, his brow furrowed, gaze lingering on Armin. As the conversation shifted he turned to stare down at his food, picking at it with disinterest. Armin wondered if the attack was still bothering him. Or maybe it was about getting cut off yesterday. Armin’s heart did a nervous flip as he remembered how serious Eren had looked. But Hanji had kept him busy straight through to curfew, and removed him once again from drills today, so he hadn’t had the chance to find out what Eren had wanted to talk about. Armin could still practically feel the tight, comforting pressure of Eren’s arms around him, hear the thick emotion in his voice. Eren clearly still valued him, so whatever he had to say… Armin was sure it would be fine. It would be fine.

Eren caught him gently by the elbow as they joined the chattering crowd of soldiers leaving the mess hall after lunch. “Do you think you’ll have time later?” He asked, quiet enough that only Armin could hear him over the other voices.

“Oh… Eren I’m not sure, we’re trying to get the balloon finished as fast as we can,” he replied apologetically. “We’ll probably end up working all evening again.”

“Just a few minutes,” Eren insisted, something grim in his expression. “It’s really important.”

Armin took a breath, the possibility that this was the same thing he needed to address with Eren flitting through his mind again. “I’ll… see what I can do,” he said finally. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and caught warm fingers in a brief, light squeeze. Eren gave him an anxious smile as they parted ways, heading in opposite directions across the courtyard. Armin looked back over his shoulder in time to see Mikasa fall in step with Eren on their way towards the main building. They exchanged a few words and she glanced back at Armin. He turned around quickly. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to her, but he hadn’t had time to bring anything up with Eren, especially not in the shortened time frame of her absence. He wasn’t sure if he _would_ have time now that the balloon was getting closer to completion. Maybe it would be better to wait until this project was finished. There wouldn’t be time to truly discuss the matter if he was constantly rushing around, after all…

He sighed, recognizing his attempts to justify delaying the inevitable. He needed to face up to his mistakes already. He could do this. He was sure he would still have Eren’s friendship when it was over. Armin grit his teeth and pushed open the door to Hanji’s lab.

\--

But he never got the chance to talk to Eren that night, or the next day, or the day after that. Hanji was determined to build the canopy as fast as humanly possible, and the base was a mess of activity. The gleeful Squad Leader had somehow managed to convince Erwin to let them rope in even more soldiers to help with the ridiculous amount of sewing, much to the detriment of Levi’s meticulously planned task schedule. But the Corporal wasn’t around to complain much, luckily, since he and his elite squad had been spending most of their days patrolling the woods. Command seemed to be taking the threat of bandits very seriously indeed, to the point where Armin was almost surprised at the measures being taken. While it certainly wouldn’t be a good thing if such outlaws got their hands on the balloon, it wasn’t exactly something that would be easy to steal. Even their blueprints were well-secured, and the Survey Corps was more than capable of defending their base in the event of a straight-up raid. But if Erwin had deemed such precautions necessary, Armin was sure there was a reason for it.

And so, in Hanji’s lab, soldiers sewed incessantly away, crowded into the small space with massive folds of treated silk spilling over their laps and filling the rest of the sweltering room. Out in the forests, Mikasa, Levi, and the rest of the elite squad patrolled tirelessly, despite the sheets of rain that had finally begun to pour down from the sky with no signs of stopping. And throughout the base, everyone else rushed back and forth, scrambling to fill in for all their manpower that was otherwise occupied, to keep everything functioning as intended. Even Commander Erwin himself had been spotted slicing onions in the kitchens, or hauling hay bales from the barn to the stables, hood pulled over his eyes against the driving rain.

And even when Armin did somehow manage to get a moment’s reprieve from sewing hell, the timing was all off. He and Eren could barely catch each other for a full minute before one of them was being summoned for some new task or other. Meals were short and many soldiers were frequently late, and everyone was tired. Armin was doing a good job at managing to stay focused, knowing that this would only continue until the canopy was complete. But Eren seemed to grow more and more frustrated with each interruption, each missed opportunity.

\--

Almost a full week had passed since the arrival of the materials, and the canopy was almost finished. Only a few soldiers were left in Hanji’s lab working on stitching up the last panel, Armin included. The rest had been dismissed back to regular duties, and the situation around base had calmed down significantly because of it, much to everyone’s relief. It was rumored that Erwin was going to call off the extra patrols after today – they had turned up nothing unusual all week except for a couple of village kids playing in the far outskirts of the forest. So it seemed that things would be back to normal soon – as normal as it got for the Survey Corps, anyway.

Hanji gave a great cheer when the final stitch had been tied off, but they were the only one who seemed to have any energy left. Armin could only slump against the back of his chair, massaging his stiff fingers. It was mind-numbing work, and after six straight days of it, all he really wanted was to go to sleep. He wouldn’t be surprised if he needed glasses after straining his eyes on needlework for so long.

Hanji stopped him as all the helpers filtered out the door, and up close he could see that the Squad Leader was not above exhaustion, either. Their eyes were just as bleary and dark-rimmed as everyone else’s, but they still managed a broad grin.

“We’re almost there,” they said, giving Armin’s shoulder a hearty pat. Luckily it didn’t hurt anymore. “Not long now until we’re flying high! Hopefully, anyway.” They stifled a huge yawn and swayed where they stood. “Get some rest tonight, Armin. You deserve it.”

Armin certainly planned to. He could barely focus on the conversation at dinner, he felt so out of it. While the rest of the group was distracted by Connie’s antics, he turned to Eren. But he didn’t even get the chance to open his mouth.

“It’s okay,” Eren cut him off, as if he knew exactly what Armin was going to say. “Don’t worry about it. You should sleep.” He smiled, but there was something strained behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Armin frowned. “Maybe tomorrow, if—”

“Yeah. Sure.” Eren ran a hand through his hair. He was fidgety and distracted through all of dinner. Even through his exhaustion, Armin felt the spark of worry rekindle in his chest.

\--

They were all excused from drills the next morning – a rare occurrence indeed – to give them a little extra rest after the week of constant activity. A lot of soldiers took this opportunity to sleep in. The weather itself seemed to encourage it, with the steady drizzle of rain beating its monotonous tone into the gutters, and the dark, sleepy gray that had wrapped itself around the morning. But Armin was up as usual, having been called in by Hanji to help check over the completed canopy.

“Sorry to cut into your free morning,” the Squad Leader apologized. “I want to just make sure this is all in order – with the both of us experts, it shouldn’t take too long.” They gave him a grin and a cheery wink, all trace of last night’s weariness gone.

Armin understood, of course. But there was a _lot_ of fabric, and he couldn’t help feeling anxious pangs every time they came across a spot where the stitches were too wide, or where the fabric had gotten bunched up. He kept glancing out the window at the lightening gray sky, at the cloaked figures beginning to hurry between buildings in the distant courtyard.

Luckily, though, there weren’t too many spots that needed fixing, and there was still some time left before lunch. He helped the ecstatic Hanji fold the massive cloth into a somewhat manageable pile in a corner, and felt a sudden, surreal realization of what they'd accomplished. They’d actually built a full-scale balloon canopy. They were so close to potential flight – all they needed now was the engine, and the fortune to have been correct in all their calculations. He really hoped all this effort and expenditure wouldn’t be for naught.

When Armin returned to the courtyard, he ran into Jean emerging from the barracks. The taller boy noticed him and paused in the doorway.

“Oh, you’re back. Eren was looking for you,” he said, stifling a yawn. “He seemed even more grumpy than usual.”

“Oh.” Armin’s heart gave a nervous flip and he stepped a little closer to the building, ducking out of the rain. “Do you know where he is?”

“Nope. He probably went to go sulk somewhere, since he heard you were working. Tough break, getting called back in on a free morning.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.” He hid his frown as he turned to hurry toward the main building. If Eren was in a bad mood, he wouldn’t want to be around other people. Armin decided to start by checking his room first.

He took a few deep breaths as he pushed into the lobby, wiping his boots on the mat. Descending the long stairway down to the basement, he mentally repeated the speech he’d been refining over the course of the past week. _Listen, Eren, I’m sorry because I know neither of us want to think about it, but I want to apologize again for my actions that night after we reclaimed Maria. I realize it’s still bothering you and I never properly put the matter to rest. I was afraid to really talk to you about it, but I’ve come to realize it might do more damage not to. I can never apologize enough for what I did. I allowed myself to get too caught up in the moment and I made a mistake, and I know that was no excuse for pushing you, especially when we’d both been drinking. I should have known better, and you have every right to be upset. But at the very least I can swear to you that it will never happen again. Your friendship means so much more to me than that._

The door to Eren’s room was slightly ajar. Armin squared his shoulders and pushed through before he had the chance to think any more and risk second-guessing himself.

Eren sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at a large, open book on his lap. He looked up when he heard the soft creak of the door. “Hey.” He sounded more subdued than Armin had expected – almost gloomy, even. His eyes slid back down to the pages and Armin was struck by how alone he looked. He felt a sudden, inexplicable wave of guilt.

“Hey,” Armin responded softly, approaching cautiously. Getting closer, he recognized the book as his own – the book of the outside world. “Doing some reading?”

Eren shrugged, slowly turning the page. Armin could tell by the way his eyes slid over the words that he was more just taking it in. “Sorry I didn’t ask first. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed it.” The pads of his fingers traced over the familiar illustration of a vast field of sand, sculpted and scalloped by the wind.

“I don’t.” Armin lowered himself carefully onto the bed beside him, leaving a respectful distance between them. “Sorry I wasn’t around earlier. Hanji needed me.”

“It’s okay.” Eren was still flipping absently, his brow now furrowed in thought. Whatever it was he had to say, he didn’t seem to be looking forward to it.

Something nagged at the back of Armin’s mind as he watched the columns of text pass by, but he brushed it off. There were more important things at hand right now. He couldn’t let himself put this off anymore. He took a deep breath. “You said you wanted to talk?”

There was the slightest hitch in the steady motion of Eren’s hand.

“Yeah,” he said, and gave a deep sigh. “Sorry, it’s just… hard to say.”

“I understand.” Armin had to struggle to swallow. His throat was very dry. “I think I need to talk to you about the same thing.”

“About… about two years ago?” The quiet question sounded almost guilty.

“…Yeah.”

Armin felt the heat rising to his face. At some point his fingers had curled into fists where they rested on his lap. His heart beat an erratic dance behind his throat. He tried to remember the words he’d thought out, but they were a ruined jumble in his head. When he opened his mouth it was like his jaw had rusted, like his tongue was made of lead.

“Eren, I— I’m so sorry, I never should’ve—”

 _Flip_ , went one more page, and Armin’s clumsy words died in his throat.

Eren, too, had frozen. His eyes were fixed on the book – not on the layers of simple text, nor on the delicate brushstrokes of rolling waves, but on the single purple flower that rested against them. The petals were crisp and flattened but still vibrant, a tiny splash of color against black and faded yellow.

Armin felt all the color drain from his face. His heart was struggling to find its rhythm again. How could he have forgotten putting that flower there? His planned speech was in shambles but that didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t act like it was a complete mistake anymore, couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t wanted it.

And Eren _knew._ Armin could see it in his slack-jawed stare, in the way his chest hitched as he struggled to draw a stuttering breath, in the sudden tension in his shoulders. Eren knew.

“You… kept this…?”

His voice was breathless. His fingertips stopped just short of the dry, flattened stem, pulled back and hovered, as if afraid of what would happen if he touched it.

Armin couldn’t speak.

“I thought you threw it away… I thought…”

Something cracked in Eren’s voice and his head jerked abruptly, and suddenly Armin was pinned in place by his wide, stormy green eyes, piercing and inescapable. He felt like his body was crammed full of stuck gears, clanking in place but unable to turn. Somewhere deep in his head he was shouting at himself to say something, _anything_ , that could reassure Eren of the integrity of their friendship. But the signal just wasn’t reaching his body.

 _“Armin,_ ” Eren said desperately, shoulders turning to face him more fully. A wild spark had lit in his gaze, all trace of his previous gloom had gone. His body was tense, his expression was alive, his penetrating stare dug deep into Armin’s soul, dragging out the answer to his unspoken question.

Armin’s voice started to work again. “Eren, it’s not—” He snapped his mouth shut as his mind caught up to it. No, there was no point in trying to deny it now. He tore away from Eren’s gaze and looked down at his knees for a moment to regain his composure. He couldn’t run away anymore.

“It’s not _what?”_ There was an aggressive edge to Eren’s voice.

Armin took a deep breath and looked back up into his frown. “It’s not a problem,” he said, more calmly than he felt. “It doesn’t have to change anything.” The words began to roll out more smoothly. “It’s no excuse for what I did, and I’m sorry. I can never say that enough. If—”

“No,” Eren cut him off abruptly, and the words blocked up in his throat again.

“No?” He managed weakly, the air suddenly gone from his lungs.

Eren was running his hand through his hair. “No, that’s not what I— It’s not your fault, Armin, it’s all mine, but it just— Of course it changes things, but it doesn’t have to— _Argh!”_ He broke off with a noise of frustration, his fingers clenched into a fistful of his hair.

Armin forced himself to keep breathing, trying to make sense of Eren’s words through the panic swirling through his mind. _It’s not your fault, but of course it changes things._ Breathe, Armin. His lips pressed into a thin line. “I… I understand,” he managed tightly.

“No, you don’t,” Eren gave a short, harsh laugh. The color was high in his cheeks. Suddenly his hands were on Armin’s shoulders, grip tight. His eyes locked onto Armin’s, brows furrowed in an expression anyone else would mistake for anger. “Armin, I—”

“There you are,” a sharp voice interrupted.

The sudden silence was deafening as the two boys stared blankly at the intruder for a few moments before they fully processed Levi standing in the doorway.

“Pick those jaws up off the floor before you swallow a fly,” The Corporal said sourly. “Jaeger, the Commander needs us for a briefing. And Hanji’s barreling around squawking for you, Arlert.”

Armin remembered his place. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, clumsily standing up from the edge of the bed. Eren’s hands fell away from his shoulders and the other boy, looking actually furious now, set the book at the foot of the bed before getting sullenly to his feet.

“Yes, sir,” he echoed in a mutter.

“Better give the Commander a better attitude than that, Jaeger.” Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you want double-duty cleaning the lavatory, that is.” But his steely gaze flitted between the two of them and Armin almost thought he saw a flicker of concern.

The three left the room in silence, led by the Corporal. Eren’s anger cooled quickly and he cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Armin, almost apologetic. Armin wasn’t sure what kind of expression he gave in return. His mind was reeling, with confusion more than anything. He felt like he couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

Back in Eren’s cell, the book of the outside world lay open on the bed, the flattened crocus resting innocently on the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, what is it with these Survey Corps superiors constantly interrupting? It's like they can sense it the moment Eren and Armin are actually starting to talk about things. ;)


	15. Launch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The balloon launches.

The engine was here.

The engine was _here_ , it was _functional,_ the canopy was complete and now all they had to do was see if it worked when it was all put together.

The rain had finally stopped, and the morning air was cool and clear and smelled of mud. Armin had been up since dawn, running back and forth all over base gathering supplies, making last minute preparations for their first test flight. _His_ first test flight. His mind was still reeling at that. After all the work, all the time spent poring over needlework and prototypes, _he_ was going to be the first one to fly it. He had barely been able to sleep, knowing that. His heart had beat insistently in his throat as over and over he pictured ascending into the blue sky, watching the base and the earth disappear below him. They’d been working towards this moment for weeks, but now that it was finally upon them, it seemed almost surreal.

Armin emerged from the storehouse, struggling to keep the massive coils of rope contained within his arms. He could feel the bundle’s mass shifting in his grip, ends slipping out and trailing by his feet, threatening to trip him. He craned his neck, trying to see around to make sure his legs weren’t getting tangled up.

“Need any help?”

He looked around and saw Eren approaching from the courtyard, a large canister of liquid fuel under each arm.

“I think I’ve got it.” Armin declined almost reflexively, and sent a pointed glance at the fuel canisters. “You don’t look in much of a position to offer, anyway.” But a long tangle of rope picked that moment to unravel from the bottom of the bundle, thumping lightly against the top of Armin’s boot.

“Mine are easier to put down,” Eren said with a crooked grin, and bent down to set them in the grass. He stepped close to tuck the loose ends securely back into into the bundle. Armin kept his eyes on the ropes.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Eren picked up the canisters again. They fell in step as they started across the field toward the lab, where a number of soldiers were bustling about outside. Armin felt the blood pounding in his ears. He had somewhat expected Eren to withdraw after finding the telltale flower in his book yesterday. But if anything, the opposite was true. They hadn’t had the chance to really talk again after that, caught up in the chaos of work and testing the engine and making arrangements for the launch. But Eren sat close to him at meals, held his gaze intently, made plain efforts to keep him engaged in conversation. If Armin didn’t know better…

But he shook off that train of thought before he could get carried away by it. He couldn’t afford to let himself get distracted at a time like this. Besides, just knowing that Eren was still there for him was a massive surge of relief. He didn’t need to bog himself down again when he felt so much lighter, so much more clearheaded, than he had felt in years.

“Are you excited?” Eren’s voice broke through his reverie. Armin looked over to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said, and smiled genuinely. They were so close to a huge potential breakthrough – how could he not be? “I’m excited. Eren, I’m gonna _fly!”_

Eren grinned right back at him, but there was something nervous behind it. “You sure are,” he said. He looked like he wanted to continue, but they had reached their destination and suddenly Hanji was upon them.

“Great! Eren, set the fuel by the engine and go wait by Levi. Armin, put the rope on that tarp with the canopy, then run inside and grab some extra pens. Wait! Eren! Actually, when you finish that, go through the rope to make sure there’re no tangles, and start tying them together! Make absolutely sure the knots are secure!” The Squad Leader was a veritable whirlwind, sweeping back and forth and babbling frantic instructions to whoever happened to be nearest. The boys exchanged a final glance and hurried to do as they were told.

Armin rushed this way and that, quickly caught up in the activity as they finalized their preparations. As he helped stake down the ropes tethering the basket to the ground, a hand came down on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Commander Erwin towering over him. Armin moved to straighten automatically, but Erwin held up a hand.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” he said, with a faint smile. “I just came to wish you luck. I couldn’t think of a better soldier to pilot the first flight. You’ve been critical to the development of this project.”

Armin bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. It’s been an honor.”

The Commander gave a nod, and strolled away towards Levi on the fringes of the crowd.

Finally, as the morning began to brighten, it was time to get started. Hanji whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention, and the group quieted.

“Alright!” The Squad Leader boomed. Their suddenly serious tone made it hard to believe that this was the same person who’d been practically dancing around the field not a minute ago. “This is an unprecedented operation we’re trying to carry out here, and if we succeed, it will be a huge asset in our fight against the Titans. But for that to happen, we’re going to need each and every one of you. Launch squad! What’s your status?”

“The basket is secure and the engine has been checked and filled!” Called a soldier standing by the basket, saluting.

“Good. Emergency team!”

“All barrels have been filled with water, and we’re standing by with medical kits!” Came the response from the other side.

“Observation team!”

“Ready to write like our lives depend on it, Squad Leader!”

“They just might. Titan squad!”

Eren snapped to attention, a look of fierce determination on his face. “Ready!”

“And ready to intervene, if necessary,” Levi added impassively from between him and Erwin.

Hanji nodded, then cracked a grin. “Pilot?”

Armin stepped forward, all eyes turning to him at once. “Ready,” he said, his steady voice belying how hard his heart was pounding.

“Fantastic.” The Squad Leader couldn’t keep the glee from leaking back into their voice. “Alright, people, let’s get rolling! Private Jaeger, you know what to do!”

Eren nodded firmly, then turned and strode out into the open field some distance away. He stopped, and Hanji raised an arm to give him the okay. He lifted his hand to his mouth, and Armin thought he could feel the flash of his gaze before his teeth clamped down on his flesh.

The sudden crash like a thunderclap was familiar by now, as was the momentary blinding light that accompanied it. Even from across the field Armin could feel the electric pulse that rippled out from Eren, and for a moment his vision was obscured by the warm rush of steam that wafted over them. But when it cleared, there he was, a tower of lean, taut muscle looming above them all. Armin could feel the tension in his comrades, could see Levi’s hand hovering near his holster, but he knew there was nothing to worry about. Sure enough, the Titan raised a hand and gave a thumbs-up to signal that Eren was indeed in control. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd.

Eren took two cautious steps back towards them, his footsteps like tiny earthquakes, then gingerly picked up the canopy and began breathing hot air into it. Meanwhile, Armin and Hanji checked over the basket and the engine one more time.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” Hanji groaned as they made sure the poles holding up the engine were stable. “This better work, I want a chance to go up, too! Imagine all the different Titans I could observe from above…” They trailed off dreamily while Armin climbed into the basket to reconfirm which of the engine’s valves were which.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to,” he reassured, hoping it wasn’t just wishful thinking. “We’ll just have to trust that our calculations were sound, and…”

A hand settling firmly on his shoulder cut him off, and he looked over.

“Armin,” Hanji said seriously, meeting his eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We did the best we could, but there’s still a lot of risk involved.”

Armin knew. He of all people hadn’t failed to consider all the ways this could go wrong, and he’d devoted a good portion of his energy into _not_ imagining the canopy catching fire, or the engine exploding mid-flight, or the cables snapping and plummeting him to his doom. But…

“Someone has to do it,” he reasoned. “You’re too important to risk, and it’s better to send someone who’s already familiar with the mechanics of it. Besides,” he managed a wry smile, “this is a lot less daunting than fighting Titans.”

Hanji couldn’t hold back a grin. “You got that right. Well, as long as you’re sure.”

He looked up as Eren extended the half-inflated canopy down for them to hook up above the engine. Directly above Armin, the mass of fabric cast him into shadow, blotting out the pale sky. All theory aside, it seemed almost ridiculous to imagine that something so huge could ever fly, much less carry a human being with it. But in his mind’s eye, he saw the first successful prototype dancing easily up into the air, shrinking to nothing more than a speck high in the distance. “I’m sure.”

Hanji clapped him on the back. Armin reached up and turned the engine on.

The machine came to life with a stutter, a hiss of gas through the coiling metal tubes wrapping around the mouth, and a great roar as a huge, open flame shot out the top. Eren held the bulk of the canopy aloft in his huge hands, while some other soldiers used poles to make sure the base stayed open and stretched well away from the flame. And slowly, very slowly, the fabric began to swell.

Armin’s heart was in his throat now. He looked over the equipment and fastenings yet again just to have something to do while he waited. The other soldiers bustled around him, checking again to make sure the ropes keeping the balloon tethered were secure.

He was just bending to check the extra gas canister fastened to the floor of the basket – only a small emergency supply, since this wasn’t meant to be a very long flight – when something caught his eye. Having scraped the very bottom of their financial capabilities, Hanji had decided to use the original basket for this operation. It was by no means the optimal choice, since it was very old, but it was all they had available, and they had made sure it hadn’t rotted and was still capable of supporting human weight. Now, Armin noticed a tear in the fabric lining. Frowning, he reached out in concern, but on closer inspection he quickly ascertained that there was no damage to the basket itself. But that was odd… the tear seemed to be in some kind of pocket sewn into the lining. Feeling around a little, he discovered its cleverly-disguised opening. He briefly wondered what it was for – money, maybe? It was too small to hold any kind of rations. A map…?

He stood up to ask Hanji if anything had been found in the pocket, but was quickly distracted by a sudden tremor of the ground. No… not the ground. He looked up and saw the huge orb of the canopy swaying above his head, no longer supported by Eren. The swollen fabric stretched taut as it strained at the cables which now held the basket – and, by extension, Armin – a few scant inches off the ground. But the ropes held fast and kept him earthbound, for now. He caught the edge of the basket to steady himself.

Hanji grinned at him from the other side, eyes shining. “Ready?” They asked, something almost reverent in their voice.

Armin took a breath. “Ready.” He could feel the blood thrumming hot through his veins.

“Here,” Hanji said, and reached across the edge of the basket. Something dangled from their fingers. “You might need these. In case it gets windy.”

Blinking, Armin accepted the offering and held up a pair of goggles. “Thank you,” he said, surprised.

“You know…” The Squad Leader shifted, and hesitated for a moment. “I think… the inventors of the original balloon would be proud to see this.”

It struck Armin as an odd thing for Hanji to say, but before he could comment, they continued. “And _I’m_ proud. Whether this works or not, you’ve contributed so much to this project. You’re a fine Survey Corps soldier, Private Arlert.”

Armin felt his cheeks coloring, but he held their gaze and snapped a salute. “It’s been an honor working with you, Squad Leader Hanji. Whatever happens, I only hope it will benefit humanity.”

“It will.” Hanji smiled. “Give the signal when you’re ready.” They turned and called up to the Titan looming above them. “Eren, you got the main tether?”

While they were doing that, Armin took a deep, slightly shaky breath. He reached up and tied his hair into a short ponytail, then slipped the goggles on and adjusted them over his eyes. He felt the whole crowd watching him, felt the moment closing in on him. He might die. He might die and then he’d never see the ocean, never see the world with Eren. But that was something he had to face with each and every mission, and this was only one more risk. Truth be told, he would rather die high above the Walls than in the belly of a Titan any day.

He exhaled, steady. His eyes locked with Hanji’s. He lifted an arm and gave the signal.

“Loose the ropes!” Hanji commanded, and suddenly he was weightless.

The basket lurched upwards as its constraints vanished and Armin had to grab for the side again. He ascended a lot faster than he’d expected but the rocking of the basket steadied quickly. Breathless, he watched the upturned faces of the crowd receding below him. All his weight felt as if it had been sucked down to the pit of his stomach, but his heart was still in his throat, as if in defiance of gravity.

He rose higher. He was on level with Eren’s face, now, and for a moment their gazes locked. The huge, bright green eyes that glimmered beneath the unkempt mess of hair fixed unwaveringly on Armin, and even through the Titan body he could read the emotion beneath, see the excitement and the worry flickering there even without the nuances of a human face. And Armin just smiled at him, big and honest, because somehow he felt _right._ In Eren’s Titan hands was the final tether, the last long, long rope that stayed connected to the balloon, secured around the rim of the basket to make sure he wouldn’t stray too far. Armin couldn’t have felt safer in anyone else’s hands.

And then even Eren was below him, craning his head up to follow the path of the balloon even as it left him behind. Armin watched him shrink, watched him become no more than a speck amongst the tiny, toy-sized buildings huddled in the green ring of fields and miniature trees.

The wind whipped through his bangs and stung at his face, and he was glad he had the goggles. He tore his eyes away from the base and looked around. He had seen this view before, from atop the Wall – the interior of Maria stretched out before him, large expanses of green cut by the occasional road or river, and dotted with the occasional town. That cluster of buildings in the distance to the north would be Solfeld, and if he looked to the west he’d see the far-off dome that sealed over Shiganshina. But today he wasn’t standing with his feet firmly planted on the Wall. Today he was in a wicker basket that creaked and swayed, a hunk of metal spitting fire above his head, held aloft only by a giant bag of air. The notion seemed so ridiculous that Armin felt a burst of laughter bubble up from his throat.

The balloon was drifting heavily – he was somewhere over the forest now, the tether rope trailing away at a sharp angle back to base. Grinning to himself, Armin turned to the engine and twisted a valve. The flame above roared even harder, and it wasn’t long before he was rising again, drifting in a new direction. It was _working._ He could barely believe it, but excitement was thrumming through his veins, bringing him alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He watched the Wall in the distance as he climbed higher and higher, almost level with the edge…

And then he was above it. He gripped the rim of the basket tight, unconsciously leaning forward to see. He seemed to be ascending even faster now and the Wall grew distant below him before he knew it, and all around him was clear blue sky and cold air and freedom. And there, far below, was the _outside._ There were the rolling hills, the distant trees that had come to agonize him over the years, but… Armin struggled to draw a shallow breath. _There_ , beyond that, he could see – the horizon. The bright morning sky faded to a thin line of a paler blue, meeting with the hazy, indistinct shapes of the faraway landscape. There it was, there it had always been, just begging Armin to come and see what lay beyond. Out there was the world so many had sacrificed themselves for, so tantalizingly close, suddenly so _attainable._ The world Armin would give almost anything to see, the world his parents had abandoned everything to see. It was almost right within his grasp – all he had to do was sail a little farther in his sky ship, over the Wall, over the reach of the waiting Titans… How far would it be to the ocean, he wondered…?

A sudden jolt brought him out of his trance and he realized he had reached the end of his tether. He couldn’t help the bitterness that surged up into his throat. He still had fuel, he could still go farther… it seemed almost cruel to let him up here, give him the slightest taste of his deepest dream, but put him on such a short leash. He contemplated the taut rope for a long moment. He pictured Eren on the other end, the tether clenched tight in his hands, legs braced firmly on the ground to fight the pull of the balloon. A fond, wistful smile surfaced on Armin’s lips. If only Eren could be up here with him now, rid of the Titan skin, wide-eyed and awestruck beside him. Armin would turn to him with a mischievous grin, and Eren would return it, brimming with excitement, and they would cut the rope and float away on the endless sky, to a coast where there were no Titans…

Armin sighed as the rest of his brain jumped in unbidden to provide all the reasons why that would be a terrible idea, as if determined not to let him enjoy a few moments of fantasy. There was too much at stake, they had too many responsibilities. _Your parents would have done it,_ whispered a voice in the back of his mind. But he wasn’t like them, and he couldn’t do it – wouldn’t do it. He felt a sharp sting in his chest. Was that resentment? Or was it envy? He swallowed thickly. Instead, he reached up to cut some of the engine’s heat, since he couldn’t go any higher anyway. The balloon drifted along with the wind, and Armin looked out at the horizon and dreamed.

\--

The basket touched down with a force that almost knocked Armin off his feet, and the balloon’s momentum would’ve tipped the whole thing over if Eren hadn’t managed to catch it. Armin barely had time to recover from the shock of the landing before he was swarmed with soldiers rushing to check on him, secure the balloon, or just cheer. Hanji was chief among them, apparently trying to do all three things at once.

“Armin! That was amazing! You were up there for almost half an hour, we were just about to tell Eren to pull you in!” The Squad Leader almost looked ready to cry in their excitement. “How do you feel? What was it like? Were there any technical problems? Did you see any Titans?”

Armin opened his mouth, a bit bowled over by the barrage of questions and the multitude of hands reaching in to clap him on the back.

“Easy there,” interrupted a deep voice, sounding amused. “Give him a moment to breathe.” Armin looked up to see that Commander Erwin had joined them. He fixed his enigmatic gaze on Armin. “You alright, Private?”

“Yes, sir,” Armin replied. “Just had a bit of a rough landing.” Now that the rush of the moment was wearing off, he had time to feel a bit shaken. It had been a scary descent – he’d let a little too much air out of the canopy at once, and even turning the engine back up to full-blast hadn’t slowed him down enough to be totally comfortable. He was lucky he’d had the lifeline to guide him back to the starting ground, rather than having been totally at the mercy of the wind direction.

“Well,” Erwin said, with a small smile. “I’m sure there will be plenty of time to perfect that. I’d say this operation was a resounding success.”

Dizzied as he was, Armin couldn’t help beaming back at him. “I’d say so too, sir.” His spirits still soared high even as he climbed out of the basket back onto solid ground. The Commander turned and tugged an exuberant Hanji out of the throng, bowing his head near their ear as he spoke.

“Armin!”

He turned eagerly at the familiar voice to see Eren shouldering his way through the crowd. The remnant signs of his transformation lingered beneath his eyes, but any trace of exhaustion was outweighed by his wild grin.

“You did it!” Eren said as he reached Armin, eyes gleaming with amazement and relief. “What was it like? What did you see? You were really high up there!” Armin suppressed a laugh at how similar his excitement was to Hanji’s, reaching up to pull off the goggles and shake his hair out of the ponytail. Eren’s eyes tracked the movement and he blinked.

“Your hands are really red,” he remarked, and without further ado he clasped Armin’s fingers in his own.

It wasn’t until that moment that Armin realized how stiff and cold his body was. He had been so caught up in the view, by the accomplishment, that he hadn’t even noticed the numbness in his fingers, in his lips. The heat rolled in waves off of Eren, fresh out of his Titan, but Armin was sure that the warmth flooding through him and rising into his wind-reddened cheeks was for another reason entirely.

“I guess I’ll need to bring some gloves next time,” he said, smiling helplessly.

Eren’s lips tugged back into a crooked grin. “I guess so,” he agreed, his grip tightening.

“Alright, lovebirds, break it up.” Levi appeared through the crowd, scowling. “Get back to your room and rest, Jaeger. Arlert needs to deliver his report.”

“Yes, sir.” Eren ducked his head sheepishly, his cheeks reddening, and pulled away reluctantly. Armin held his gaze for another moment before he found himself being hustled away to give the details of the flight.

\--

They were details that he found himself rehashing over and over throughout the day. Everyone he met wanted to hear about the flight. How high up did he get? Was it scary? Did the balloon tip over in the wind? He couldn’t blame them for their excitement – he still felt like he was floating, himself. But it was a welcome reprieve when Hanji sent him to deliver all the written documents to Erwin’s office, to get the Commander’s stamp of approval before sending the reports off to the interior. Armin took the long way around the outskirts of the base, to avoid the attention of passersby, but there was a spring in his step even so.

When he re-emerged from the main building, he spotted Mikasa drawing water from the well, pulling up full buckets so easily they might as well have been weightless. She looked up and spotted him, and full-on _beamed._

“I saw you go up,” she said as he approached, her voice warm with pride. “You did it.”

“We did,” Armin replied, grinning back at her. He paused by the well as her smile softened, and she opened her mouth to speak again. He expected to hear her ask the usual questions, but he didn’t mind them coming from her.

“You look good,” was what she said instead.

It took him a moment to process what she meant, still so caught up in the high of success he could barely fathom feeling any differently. “I _feel_ good,” he admitted, smiling. And it was true. “Mikasa, things finally feel like they’re _moving_ again. Like we could finally make some real progress, for the first time since we took back Maria.” His chest was overflowing with warmth. It felt like it might burst. “Thanks, Mikasa. For everything.”

She blinked, caught off-guard for a split second. “I haven’t done anything.”

“That’s not true,” Armin insisted. “I’ve been in such a bad rut for such a long time, for… a number of reasons.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, a little sheepish. “I was so caught up in my own head, and all it was doing was dragging me down. But you’ve been here pushing me. I’m sorry I haven’t been present enough to return the favor, or tell you how much it means to me. But just you being here… it makes a big difference.”

Mikasa looked at a loss for words. She tugged her scarf up over her nose, a habitual, unconscious gesture, but not before he glimpsed the slight tinge of pink in her cheeks. “It’s nothing,” she managed, her voice a little stilted. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She glanced down for a moment to regain her composure. “I see the flight put you in a good mood.”

“You should’ve seen it up there, Mikasa, it was so beautiful…”

“Show me sometime,” she said, picking up a full bucket in each hand and looking back up at him. Her gaze was calm and satisfied.

“Yeah. I will.” Armin grinned.

\--

The hectic day was beginning to wind down and only a few soldiers were left bustling around the lab on cleanup detail. Although Hanji was insisting that he didn’t have to stick around, Armin was helping, sustained by the thrill of energy still buzzing through him. He cheerfully volunteered to bring the fuel canisters back to the storehouse. It had turned into a beautiful sunny day, pleasantly cool and fresh after the rain, and he was more than happy for an excuse to be active and enjoy the glow of the waning afternoon. The courtyard was fairly empty at this hour, with only the occasional soldier strolling between buildings on their various tasks. Armin stepped into the storehouse, sunlight giving way to the cool shadows of the building.

He found himself humming tunelessly as he made his way to the back, an empty canister under each arm. He was looking forward to dinner, actually looking forward to it. Maybe not so much to the barrage of questions that would come with the inevitable swarm of his eager peers, but that didn’t even amount to a minor inconvenience knowing that Eren would be among them, beside him. Mikasa was right, there really had been nothing to worry about. Armin could still feel Eren’s hands grasping his fingers, still feel the way Eren had been _looking_ at him this morning. He could tell by the way Eren’s discomfort had vanished that there was nothing to be afraid of. It seemed almost silly that he had ever been afraid.

A shadow fell across the doorway as he stood on tiptoe to slide the canisters back onto their shelf. He looked over his shoulder to see the silhouette of a soldier struggling with a heavy crate.

“Need some help?” Armin asked automatically. But she shook her head, setting the load down by the doorway with a _thunk._ She straightened up, and Armin recognized Orwel.

“Nah, I got it.” Orwel shook out her shoulder and looked up at him, and her eyes widened. “Hey, Private Arlert, right? Didn’t you up in that big flying device today?”

“Yeah, that was me.” He gave a modest smile, bracing himself for the flood of questions.

But none came. “Hey, actually, I could use your help,” she said instead. “A supply shipment just came in, and there’s a lot to unload.”

“Already?” Armin blinked. “That’s odd, we weren’t scheduled for another couple of days.”

But Orwel just shrugged, glancing nervously out the door. “Beats me, but I better get back to it. You got a few minutes? I’m all by myself and an extra set of hands would really help.”

“Sure.” He was pretty sure Hanji wouldn’t mind. The pair left the storehouse, heading across the courtyard towards the barn. Sure enough, Armin could see a covered wagon backed up to the entrance, its horses scuffing restlessly at the ground. He glanced over at Orwel. He still couldn’t place where he might have seen her before, but the feeling that he had just wouldn’t go away.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t think too much of it at the moment. They reached the wagon and, sure enough, there were plenty of crates still waiting in the back. Armin frowned. The drivers were different from usual, and they didn’t seem very helpful, either. One was up in front trying to calm the horses, looking disgruntled, and the other was leaning against the side of the wagon, looking disinterestedly around at the buildings.

“Did they show you their credentials?” Armin murmured to Orwel, low enough that only she could hear him.

But she just looked at him funny. “Yeah? The stablemaster checked them and everything.” She jerked her head toward the pasture, where the officer in question was leading a limping horse into the stables, unconcerned by the visitors.

“Alright.” Armin just shrugged. It wouldn’t be unusual for the interior to have hired more slackers, he supposed.

Orwel clambered into the back of the wagon and passed him a crate. “The rest of these go in the barn,” she said, straining under the weight.

They unloaded a few crates this way, Orwel passing them out and Armin depositing them just inside the barn to be unpacked later. But their progress stagnated as Orwel struggled to lift a crate farther back in the wagon.

“Maria, this thing’s heavy,” she huffed. “Can you help with this one?”

“On my way.” Armin pulled himself into the wagon, the floorboards creaking slightly as he made his way back through the small, musty-smelling space, stepping over a few tools that were littered around the floor. Orwel stepped back to give him room to maneuver around the packed crates.

“It’s this one, right?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she said from behind him.

He was about to suggest that they pick it up together. He was about to turn and move to the side so they could both reach it. But he didn’t get the chance, because a faint whooshing sound distracted him, and a moment later his shins connected harshly with the sharp corner of the crate and he tumbled gracelessly over it and onto the floor beyond. Only then did he register the splitting pain in his skull, engulfing his mind like thunder. But he couldn’t move, not even to curl in on himself – lights flashed blindingly in his eyes when he tried. Somewhere, distantly, he heard something metal clatter to the floor, and voices drifted to his ears. But they were faint and garbled, as if through water. He tried to listen, hoping dimly that Orwel could get away and get help, but darkness came for him quickly, and he heard no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	16. Bindings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hostile territory, Armin wracks his brain.

Movement. That was the first thing Armin was able to process. He was moving. He could tell by the way the ground seemed to rattle beneath him, each bump and jolt like a hammer to his head as his consciousness ebbed back in behind the splitting pain in his skull.

Voices. They were distant at first, but they grew more distinct as Armin roused his hazy mind and tried to focus. A man was speaking, a reedy voice that he didn’t recognize.

“…Not even gonna let me see?”

“For the last time,” snapped a female voice. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon,” coaxed the man. “What if there’s something good in there? We could split the profits.”

The woman scoffed. “It’s all just a bunch of dusty old books. Wouldn’t earn enough to make it worth the trouble we’d get in.”

The man grumbled but fell silent. Armin’s heart picked up speed as pieces of his memory came drifting back to him. _Shit._ He’d been so stupid. He’d _thought_ there was something off about those suppliers… but he’d been so high on the success of the balloon, lulled into a false sense of security by a fellow soldier’s company… Fuck. His gut twisted. He could guess well enough what had happened. He couldn’t believe someone had managed to infiltrate their ranks like that – this had been planned well ahead of time. If the stablemaster had indeed verified the credentials of these suppliers, and the spy was able to falsify their background thoroughly enough to fool the Survey Corps, then that meant the most likely culprit was—

“Can’t those horses go any faster?” Grumbled the woman – Orwel. “I want to sleep in a real bed again, not those pathetic sacks of straw.”

And Armin suddenly remembered where he’d seen her. She’d been at the tavern in Solfeld all those weeks ago, complaining about leaving the interior. _Military Police._ Armin kept tight control of his breathing, trying not to let on that he was awake. Instead, he tried to get a sense of his surroundings.

He cautiously cracked an eye open. Nothing. Panic spiked through his chest and his eyes instinctively snapped open wide to a wall of darkness. But something brushed against his nose, and his breath puffed hot back against his face. He relaxed slightly as he realized his head was covered with some kind of hood. Its rough texture chafed between his cheek and the floor.

He was in a wagon, likely the same one that had been used to drop off the supplies. His hands and feet were bound, and the tight ropes dug painfully into the exposed flesh of his wrists and ankles – he realized with a jolt that he wasn’t wearing his boots or his jacket. He couldn’t feel the pressure of his gear straps, either. Something nauseous twisted inside him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. Straining his eyes, he could make out only a faint light through the stitches of the hood. The rattling of the wagon floor beneath his head made it impossible to hear anything from outside.

Within the wagon, he couldn’t hear signs of more than two people in the back with him. His mind rushed to calculate his likelihood of escape. He stood no chance bound and blind. Could he somehow trick his captors into loosening his ropes, or even just removing the hood? It depended on whether he could grasp what kind of people they were. If the man was just a hired goon, Armin might be able to sway him with a bribe or a threat… But then there was Orwel. Sure, she seemed to have the typical Military Police penchant for complaining, but clearly she had enough dedication to her mission to successfully keep the whole Survey Corps fooled for weeks. And she couldn’t be bought so easily, he noted, mentally scanning the bits of conversation he’d just overheard.

But he couldn’t just do nothing. If he really was being taken to the Military Police… his stomach turned to lead. He'd be as good as dead once he got there.

Armin drew in a deep breath, and stirred.

“Well, look who’s finally up,” the man said flatly.

Armin froze for a moment, and made a show of tugging at the ropes. “What is this? Wh… Where am I?” The tremor in his voice was not completely affected.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The man sounded a little smug, perhaps glad of some entertainment.

“Who are you?” Armin’s voice grew more frantic. “Are you a bandit? I don’t have anything you’d want, I swear—”

“A _bandit?!_ ” Interrupted the man, anger and indignation bleeding into his voice. “I’m not some lowlife thief! I don’t wanna hear that from some treasonous little—”

“ _Garrol,_ ” Orwel’s voice cut him off sharply, a clear warning.

Armin stilled. “Orwel…? Is that you?”

The man – Garrol – laughed unpleasantly. “Doesn’t feel too good to have one of your own turn on you, does it?”

“Nothing personal, Arlert.” Orwel’s voice was cold and disinterested. “I don’t really give a shit what you did, but I’ve gotta do my job.”

“What I did…?” Armin feigned confusion. “Is this about the… the experiments?”

But she wasn’t giving any ground. “I’m not here to answer your questions,” she snapped. “Shut him up, Garrol.”

“And go back to our thrilling conversation of jack shit? C’mon, can’t we at least interrogate him a bit?” Garrol complained.

“ _No_ ,” Orwel said. She sounded like her patience was reaching its limit. “That’s not our job, and I don’t wanna be responsible for it if you do something stupid.”

Garrol grumbled, but the floorboards creaked as he stood. Armin’s heart dropped into his stomach. He tried to curl up instinctively, unable to shield himself with his hands. Garrol gave a harsh laugh.

“Fat lotta good that’ll do you,” he jeered, before his boot connected hard with Armin’s stomach.

\--

The next time Armin woke, the cart’s wheels were clattering along cobblestone. The darkness of his hood seemed dimly brighter, and he could hear passing voices clamoring outside. Orwel and Garrol were arguing about who the men were collecting their payment from. He felt the wagon make a sharp turn, and the outside chatter faded at the same time the road grew much bumpier. A back alley…?

Panic began to set in. They must be close to their destination, and if Armin found himself locked up in some interior stronghold, what chance did he have of ever seeing the light of day again? What were the odds that the Survey Corps would find him? What were the odds that they would even _try?_ He wasn’t like Eren, with some game-changing power, or even Mikasa, whose level of skill was more than worth the expenditure it would take to protect her. Sure, Armin had his wits, but the Survey Corps already had Erwin and Hanji, who were more than a match for him _and_ had actual combat skill to boot.

His stomach turned sour as his thoughts turned to his friends. They must have noticed that he was gone by now, right? Hanji may not have been alarmed when he hadn’t come back to cleanup, but his peers must have thought it odd when he didn’t show up for dinner… right? Or had they just assumed he was resting? Just how much of a head start had his captors gotten? Hanji and Erwin must have pieced together roughly what had happened when they realized two of their soldiers were missing. And the supply wagon had been the only thing that stopped in at the base that day. But would they think that it was the work of bandits, instead…? They were already on the alert for bandits after the recent attack, even going so far as to bring Mikasa back to base…

Mikasa. What was she thinking right now? He was sure she’d be able to keep her composure enough to keep Eren in line, oh, _Eren_ … Armin’s throat constricted and heat pricked at his shrouded eyes. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to imagine his friends suffering because he was too stupid to keep his guard up.

Armin’s heart was pounding in his throat. He needed to get out of here. He subtly tested the ropes binding his wrists again but they were still too tight. Dammit, if he hadn’t gotten himself knocked out before, he could’ve been working on trying to loosen them. His back was to a flat wooden surface – one of the wagon’s sides, he guessed. He felt around the small area he could reach with his fingers, desperately hoping to find a jutting nail or a wood splinter.

But just then, the wagon suddenly lurched to a halt. He couldn’t help letting out a surprised yelp as it pitched him forward.

“Oh, you’re awake again, huh?” Said Garrol’s voice, and Armin suddenly found himself yanked up by the scruff. “Out with you.”

The man tossed him unceremoniously out of the wagon and he connected painfully with the rough stone ground, knees first, and then his chin. He gasped for breath as a new voice said irritably, “Hey, easy, I don’t wanna have to carry him.”

“Not like he weighs much,” snorted Garrol. “So where’s our money?”

The new voice heaved a put-upon sigh. “Go back out to the main entrance and ask for Keller. Give him this.” There was a soft rustling sound. “Orwel, once we bring him downstairs and drop off the evidence, you’re free to report back to your commanding officer. Good work, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Orwel replied.

Armin felt the ropes around his ankles being cut as he heard the wagon clatter off again. “On your feet,” commanded the officer harshly, hauling him upright. “And don’t even think about trying anything. It’ll be the last thing you do.” The tight grip that clamped like a vice around the back of his neck emphasized this. But Armin knew already that trying to resist was useless right now – even if he somehow managed to blindly kick himself free, he wouldn’t be able to see where to run. So he staggered onto his feet, despite the stinging pain searing through his legs, despite the stiff soreness gripping his body.

He felt the air change as the officer shoved him through a doorway into a cool building. He counted the turns. _Right. Left. Down. Left. Right. Right again._ Distant voices reached him, echoing through stone halls alongside their three sets of footsteps. Faint laughter. At one point a voice swore loudly from just around a nearby corner. Neither the officer nor Orwel spoke, though, and Armin used the silence to commit the route to memory. _Left. Straight for a while._ They stopped briefly and Armin heard the heavy _clunk_ of a door unlocking. _Down… down… down…_ The air grew stale and chilly, the thin fabric of his shirt useless to keep him warm. _Left… straight… straight…_ Another door unlocked on the right. He was thrust forward, and shoved down into a hard chair. Someone roughly readjusted his arms to fit around the stiff, unforgiving back, the edges digging into the insides of his elbows. Someone else fastened his ankles to the chair legs.

Then, finally, the hood was pulled off.

He was in a small, stone cell, empty except for the chair he sat in and the torches mounted in a row along each wall. Orwel was lighting them, one by one. As they blazed to life, they illuminated the unicorn emblem on the back of her jacket. The officer tucked the hood under an arm and jotted something down in a notepad.

“Why am I here?” Armin tried to ask, hoping to glean something, anything, out of them. But the officer just flicked him a dispassionate glance and gestured to Orwel as she lit the last torch, then stooped to pick a sack up off the floor by her feet. Orwel didn’t so much as look at him as they both left the cell. The heavy iron door clunked shut. The lock clicked. And Armin was alone.

The full reality of the situation hit him and suddenly he couldn’t seem to get enough air. He was alone and weaponless in a Military Police stronghold, far from any friendly faces, and with too good an idea of what he was in for. He forced himself to take deep, steady breaths, trying to stay calm and keep his thoughts organized. _Right left down left right right straight down left straight right_ , he chanted in his head. No matter what, he couldn’t let himself forget that. He had to believe he’d get out of here somehow.

He managed to regain control of his lungs. He closed his eyes. The brightness of the torchlight stained the backs of his eyelids a flickering orange.

He could think of no reason but the balloon as to why the Military Police would want the likes of him. He and Hanji had the most intimate knowledge of the device, but the Squad Leader was a much riskier target than an expendable soldier. But something didn’t add up. If the Military Police was trying to sabotage the Survey Corps, the smarter thing to do would’ve been to destroy the balloon before the Survey Corps could get their hands on it. Was the Military Police just looking for inside intel? What inside intel would be worth going to such lengths to obtain?

Armin would think himself in circles before he figured it out. There was nothing he could do for now but wait for the interrogation he knew would be coming. He opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the solid iron door before him. He kept his breathing steady.

_Right, left, down, left, right, right,_ he repeated to himself. He clenched his hands into fists, fingers going numb as the ropes squeezed around his wrists. He held it, then relaxed. Then he did it again. His blunt nails bit into his palms. _Left, straight, down, left, straight, right_.

He didn’t know how long he kept this up. He tried to track the hours by the torches, but they seemed to burn longer – and brighter – than the standard ones. Time dragged on, monotonous and indistinct. It was cold, despite all the torches. The stone walls seemed to suck up any heat the flames gave off. The room was silent except for their crackling and Armin’s strained breathing. His palms were bleeding where his nails had dug in repeatedly and his wrists ached, raw and chafed. But… he could feel it. It was barely noticeable, but there was the tiniest bit of extra slack in the ropes.

Armin grit his teeth and redoubled his efforts despite his aching hands, tensing and twisting and tugging. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t let himself be tortured to death by humans far underground, without contributing anything to humanity’s freedom. Not before seeing the ocean, seeing what it was like outside, not when they were on the cusp of potentially turning the war around. He had to make it out somehow, and make it back. Back to his job, back to his friends, his family. Back to Eren.

He had no idea how long his captors were planning on letting him sit here, but if by some miracle he could get out of these ropes before then… There were plenty of torches. He could wait just beside the door… He didn’t let himself stop even when weariness began to set in, even when his hands grew stiff and clumsy from the constant strain. He kept his mantra repeating in his head. He refused to lose focus. He tasted iron and suddenly realized he’d been biting his lip. The torches flickered. He now had enough room to turn his wrists.

_Ka-thunk._

Armin’s hands froze and he snapped upright as he heard the heavy lock click. His heart began to race again. The heavy door swung open.

Armin didn’t even try to hide his contempt as a familiar figure stepped casually across the threshold and stopped.

“Hello again, Arlert. I hope your trip didn’t tire you out too much,” said the newcomer pleasantly. “By the way, I’ve brought you a little present. Rope is so old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

Major Adler held up a pair of steel shackles, and grinned his toothy grin.


	17. Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren doesn't do well with waiting. Meanwhile, Armin finally learns an important but unpleasant piece of information.

“Eren. _Eren._ ”

“ _What,_ ” Eren snapped, jerking around and knocking the hand away from his shoulder. Mikasa stared back at him, her face ashen.

“It’s time for breakfast,” she told him stiffly. “You should go eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he spat, resuming his frenzied pacing along the hall outside of Erwin’s office. Mikasa’s lips pressed into a tight line, but she said nothing more. How could she expect him to _eat_ at a time like this? His throat was twisted into knots. His head was spinning. His whole body felt wracked with nausea. How could she expect him to eat when _Armin_ was _gone?_

His nails bit into his palms as his fists clenched unconsciously. He should’ve _known_ something was wrong the moment Armin hadn’t shown up to dinner last night. But the others had suggested that maybe he was just trying to avoid the crowds of soldiers clamoring about the successful balloon launch, just waiting to mob him the moment he should show his face. Eren ran a hand roughly through his hair, tugging at the roots. _Why_ hadn’t he gone with his gut and gone to look for him right away?

“Eren,” Mikasa started again, but the faint clatter of hooves outside caught his attention.

“The dispatch is back!” Hope spiked frantically into Eren’s throat as he darted to the window. Craning his head to peer at an angle through the glass, he saw three riders dismounting by the stables. His heart plummeted. Armin wasn’t among them.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely. Mikasa’s hand gripped his shoulder, brittle and vicelike. This time, he let it stay there. His eyes dully tracked the soldier who broke from the party to run to the main building while the other two took care of the horses.

It didn’t take long for the scout to reach the office wing. She only gave Eren and Mikasa a tired, sympathetic glance as she brushed past them and rapped on Erwin’s door. It opened immediately.

“I don’t remember inviting _you_ in,” Levi remarked, looking over the scout’s shoulder at Eren, who was crowding in behind her. Eren bristled, but Erwin’s voice cut him off from deeper within the room.

“It’s alright. Let them in.”

Levi obediently stepped aside, and all three soldiers entered the office. The scout snapped a salute.

“Commander, we followed the standard delivery route to the next checkpoint and found nothing. The officers there said they didn’t receive any supplies yesterday. As you instructed, we doubled back to the checkpoint before us, and they haven’t received their shipment yet, either.”

“I see.” Erwin nodded gravely.

“Sir,” Eren interrupted, earning a sharp look from Levi. “Shouldn’t we send out a search party? Every moment we wait—”

Erwin held up a hand to cut him off. “Dupont,” he said, addressing the scout. “You and the rest of your group are dismissed for the day. Get some rest.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and left the room with a respectful nod.

“Now,” Erwin returned his attention to Eren, folding his hands. “What is it you suppose we’d be searching for?”

“For _Armin,_ ” Eren snapped, unable to control his tone under his frayed nerves and mounting desperation. “If those suppliers were bandits in disguise, who knows what—”

“What makes you so sure they were bandits?”

“What else would they be?!” Mikasa’s hand was on his shoulder again, her tight grip a warning this time. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about his manners. “They already tried to grab him once. They probably got some forged documents, and stole some supplies to sneak onto base. We’re wasting time!”

Erwin regarded him with an infuriating calmness. “Eren,” he said. “When you went to look for Armin in the barracks last night, what did you find?”

Eren’s teeth clicked together. “A mess,” he replied tightly. His stomach roiled at the memory of Armin’s bed with its mattress askew, sheets puddled in a heap at the floor, the dresser drawers pulled out and upturned, all Armin’s books gone.

“That’s right,” Erwin said. “Do you think a stranger would’ve been able to walk into the barracks with nobody noticing, and know exactly which bed was Armin’s?”

“No, sir,” Eren mumbled. “That part was Orwel, wasn’t it?” The recruit was the only other soldier missing from the emergency roll call last night, and _her_ bed hadn’t been ransacked. Eren’s fists clenched tighter.

“I believe we can assume so.” Erwin gave a brief nod. “But I doubt that bandits would have been capable of falsifying her records so perfectly.”

Eren furrowed his brows. “But then… the _Military Police?_ That doesn’t make any sense, what would they want with Armin?” He felt his throat constrict. “They can’t— he hasn’t _done_ anything!”

Erwin and Levi were sharing a look. The Commander turned back to the siblings with a solemn expression. “We don’t have any concrete guesses,” he said. “Has Armin ever said anything… odd to you? Perhaps regarding the balloon?”

Eren and Mikasa glanced at each other in confusion. “No?” Eren said as Mikasa shook her head. He narrowed his gaze in suspicion. “Why? Is there something we should know?”

“Watch your tone, brat,” Levi snapped, but Erwin held up a hand.

“For the moment, all you need to know is that we will go after him, rest assured,” the Commander told them. “However, if he has indeed been captured by the Military Police, extricating him will be a somewhat sensitive matter. I would prefer to avoid another all-out faction war, if possible.”

Eren bristled. Mikasa’s fingers dug harder into his shoulder. But Erwin continued before either of them could speak.

“I have Squad Leader Hanji reviewing building plans of Military Police headquarters and branch bases,” he said. “In a moment, Corporal Levi and I will join them, and we will discuss the best way to approach this situation. In the meantime, I must insist that the two of you get some rest. You’ve been lurking in the hallway all night, and we may very well require your strength for the operation. You will be fully briefed when the time comes.”

“But sir—” Eren tried to protest, but Erwin cut him off.

“No buts, Private. I will excuse the two of you from regular duties today. Go get some sleep.” His businesslike tone eased into one a little softer. “You’ll be no good to Armin if you’re exhausted. You’re dismissed.”

Eren clenched his jaw. “Yes, sir,” he said stiffly, giving a rigid salute before spinning on his heel and leaving the room. Mikasa was close behind him as he stormed down to the basement.

He slammed the door to his room behind him and gave it a harsh kick for good measure. It rattled in its frame and the tremor of the shock shot through his leg. Mikasa grabbed him by the arm.

“Eren,” she said sharply. “Stop. That’s not going to help anything.”

“I _know_ it’s not! He snapped back, his voice louder than he intended. She didn’t flinch. “But what the hell am I _supposed_ to do, huh? I can’t just… just take a fucking nap if Armin’s been captured by the Military Police. The _Military Police_ , Mikasa! Don’t you remember what they _do_ to their prisoners?” He paced agitated circles around her, yanking his fingers through his hair. His breath hitched and caught in his throat. He stopped abruptly, shoulders hunching in as something shuddered inside him.

“Of course I remember,” Mikasa snapped back, and he could hear the strain in her voice. “But the Commander is right. We can’t save Armin by ourselves, and we can’t help him at all if we can’t even hold ourselves together. You _have_ to keep your strength up. For him.”

“I know,” he choked out in a whisper, his head still ducked towards the floor. He felt her approach from behind but he waved her away. “Just go!”

She stopped. There was silence for a moment. “Okay,” she said softly. Her voice was thick. He couldn’t look at her. “I’ll see you later.”

He heard the door open, and then shut. Now Eren allowed himself to crumble. His body folded in on itself, hunched over on the cold stone floor. A guttural sob wrenched from his throat, muffled by his hands over his face. His palms were wet.

Just yesterday. Armin tense and excited, more nervousness written on his face than he seemed to think. Armin in a rickety wicker basket, soaring up away from him, connected only by the fragile rope in Eren’s Titan hands. Armin, shaken but ablaze with wonder, safe and sound with his hands in Eren’s where they belonged. Armin with his windswept hair, his reddened nose, his _smile,_ big and genuine and a little shy, happier than Eren had seen him in ages, more open to Eren than he’d been in ages. Armin so close to his dream, to _their_ dream, happy and smiling and lifting Eren’s heart up and up and up into the clouds. He shouldn’t have waited. He should’ve disobeyed his orders to rest. He should’ve stuck by Armin’s side like he’d wanted to. He should’ve gone to look for him during dinner. He shouldn’t have waited. But now waiting was all he _could_ do.

He crawled weakly up onto the bed, not even bothering to pull off his boots. His hazy vision landed on the heavy tome sitting atop his dresser. With a thick sniffle, he reached out to pull it onto the mattress, flipping it open to the middle. His vision blurred even further. He reached out, his shaking fingertips brushing the page next to a tiny, fragile splash of purple. If he hadn’t waited, he wondered, would things be different?

Eren’s head was spinning. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and closed the book. His palm rested against the leather cover, smoothed by age and wear. His face was still wet and his throat felt swollen. But exhaustion throbbed behind his temples. He fell into a restless sleep.

\--

God, Armin wished he could sleep.

His cell was a haze of indistinct shapes and incessant, flickering light. What time was it? What day was it? How long had he been here? He’d lost track after what he could only guess was about two days. The hours dragged on and ran together, filled only with the cacophony of something slamming repeatedly against his door, the harsh throbbing of his bruises and welts, the taunts, the slaps, the bursts of cruelly frigid water. And the _lights._ Everything stopped after a while, except for the torchlight, constantly burning into his screaming eyes whether he closed them or not.

A soldier was banging on the door right now, the small stone room echoing the sharp metallic _clangs_ right back in on him. Armin’s head felt like it was splitting. The light and the noise, he thought dimly, were possibly the worst of it. He took a deep breath. _Right, left, down, left, right, right, left, straight, down, left, straight, right_ , something said in his head. He wasn’t sure why but it felt important.

The banging has stopped. Where did the soldier go? Armin thought they were just here but now he was alone. The banging was gone but the crackle of the torches still felt deafening, each snap and spark another stab into Armin’s nerves. But nobody was there to beat him or yell at him, for the moment, and his eyes slipped shut. The bright inescapable flicker of the torches still seared into his eyelids. But for a few blissful moments, he lost consciousness.

\--

Something hard slammed into his stomach and his eyes snapped open. Armin doubled over as far as his restraints would allow, gasping, feeling tears on his face once again. His whole body wailed with pain and exhaustion, yanked out of sleep’s relief after what seemed like only a few seconds. But his head was clearer now, if only slightly. _Right, left, down, left, right, right, left, straight, down, left, straight, right_ , he recited automatically in his head. At least now he could remember what that was for.

“Did you have a nice rest?” A cool voice asked pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. Armin lifted his head weakly and managed to fix Adler with a glare. The Major smiled mildly back at him. “If you’re ready to talk, I’ll let you continue your nap afterwards. I can promise you a good, long sleep.”

Armin pried apart his dry lips. “I told you,” he rasped. “I don’t know what you want.” His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth and his throat creaked with the effort it took to speak. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since they last brought him water.

“Really, now?” Adler feigned surprise. How many times had they had this conversation already? Armin couldn’t remember that, either. “Are you sure? Holding out won’t do you any good, you know. Things will only get worse from here.” The Major grinned his toothy grin. The shadows from the torchlight seemed to etch it even deeper into his gaunt face. “You’ll break eventually. You might as well save yourself the trouble.”

Armin felt disgust welling up in his throat. “ _You_ should’ve saved yourself the trouble,” he bit out. “I don’t have anything to tell you that you don’t already know.”

“Is that so?” Adler casually examined his baton. “And what do I know?”

Armin clenched his jaw shut. He wasn’t going to play this game. Adler looked at him and sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“I’m starting to wonder if you don’t know anything, after all.”

“Glad to be wasting your time,” Armin muttered. His eyes ached but he refused to let them drift from Adler.

“Come now, don’t think so poorly of yourself,” Adler grinned. “Then again, I suppose that’s only natural when you’ve been surrounded by such skilled individuals for so long. What did you do to win the favor of Jaeger and Ackerman?”

Armin bristled at the mention of his friends, but he held his silence. Even through the haze of exhaustion he could tell what Adler was up to.

“They certainly seemed quite protective of you,” Adler continued. “Jaeger in particular. Childhood friends, was it? I read through some of the records from Trost. It seems he’s loved championing for the weak even before gaining his freak ability. You wouldn’t even have made it through your first battle if he hadn’t sacrificed himself for you, as I understand.”

“That’s not going to work on me,” Armin heard himself saying. The rational part of him winced. He knew that anything he said would end up becoming some sort of fuel for his tormentor. But reason was just a tiny spark at the back of his mind, and his body reacted to the sting of his pride as if of its own accord. “I know where my strengths lie.”

“I’m sure you do.” Adler placated. “But do they?”

A short, harsh laugh grated its way out of Armin’s throat. “Is that the best you can do?”

Adler sighed, settling down in a chair opposite Armin that seemed to have materialized at some point. “It’s an honest question, you know. Far too often a skilled mind goes unrecognized, overshadowed by feats of strength. And you’re surrounded by many tall shadows, Arlert.” He crossed his legs, leaning casually against the back of the chair. “Everyone and their grandmother tells tall tales about humanity’s strongest, Corporal Levi. Commander Erwin’s controversial tactics are a topic of heated discussion amongst laymen and politicians alike. Even Squad Leader Hanji is renowned for their brilliant contraptions as much as their eccentricity. And of course, everyone knows about Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, the symbol of humanity’s hope and his one-woman army. But you, Armin… I had to dig deep through the records to even find your name.”

“I’m not doing this for recognition,” Armin retorted, fighting against the weight settling into his chest.

“Of course not,” Adler said soothingly. “But it’s easy for such things to get to people’s heads, true or not. A Survey Corps missive delivered the reports of your balloon launch the other day, by the way.”

Armin furrowed his brow, struggling to reorient to the sudden change in topic. “Good for you, you’ve got written proof of why I’m a useless captive.”

Adler tutted. “There you go again. Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m sure you’re dying to know. Nobody came looking for you.”

Armin’s stomach clenched. “I wouldn’t expect them to make a blatant raid on Military Police headquarters.”

“Yes, that would be rather foolish,” the Major agreed. “Though personally, I don’t expect them to come at all. Do you?”

Armin clamped his mouth shut and struggled to swallow.

“No,” Adler continued. “I think they’ll underestimate your worth. Why bother expending the effort, resources, and manpower for a single soldier whose strength is outmatched a hundredfold by one other? A single soldier who has wits and intelligence, certainly, but who lacks the practical distinguishment of his superiors, who also have wits and intelligence? They may be fond of you, your friends in particular, but you’re smart enough to know that the military cannot afford to operate on emotion. This place is well-defended, and it would cost more lives than Eren Jaeger’s to get you out of here. Do you think they’ll go to such risk for you, when even you don’t seem to know why you’re here?”

“No,” Armin whispered. He’d known that. He’d known that the whole time. But hearing it from someone else’s mouth sent a hollow chill through his bones. But he couldn’t – he couldn’t let Adler see that. He drew himself upright as much as he could, his back creaking painfully against the stiff chair. “So why _am_ I here?” He tried to inject some confidence into his voice but it still came out shaky and strained. “Everything I know about the balloon should be in that report. I’m not aware of any of my superiors’ intentions for the device beyond what we’ve already explained to Central Command. If I’m supposed to be a hostage, you’ve already demonstrated why I’d be a bad one.” The corners of his lips twitched involuntarily. “There’s nothing I can give you.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, you see,” Adler replied. “You may be able to give us closure regarding a rather sensitive matter.” He grinned at Armin’s obvious confusion. “Closure… I suppose that’s something you haven’t been given much of. You’ll die down here without getting to say goodbye to your friends, or seeing humanity to victory against the Titans. You lost your grandfather to that rather lackluster recapture operation. Even your parents disappeared on you, didn’t they?”

“What…?”

“They wanted to go outside the Walls, isn’t that right? I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Still, I can’t imagine how you must have felt as a child, neglected constantly so they could carry out their lengthy preparations… and then abandoned for good when they never came back. Do you think, in the end, they thought it was worth it?”

Something heavy and horrible was beginning to curl in Armin’s gut. “How do you know about that?” He whispered hoarsely.

Adler smiled. “Oh, Armin,” he said, voice dripping with pity. “You didn’t think they actually _made_ it, did you?”

Armin could only stare back at him, wide-eyed and hollow, like someone had scooped out his stomach.

“We have eyes everywhere, you know,” Adler continued, standing up and beginning to pace leisurely around Armin’s chair. “Your parents weren’t the first to try to leave the Walls, not by any means. Though they were by far the most creative about it. Imagine my surprise when my agents and I came upon a couple trying to _fly_ over the Wall!”

_Fly._ The word jarred the last piece into place. “The balloon,” Armin whispered. His eyes fixed blankly on a spot on the floor. His head was spinning. He felt like throwing up but his stomach was empty.

“I’m glad you’re so quick to catch on.” Adler’s voice came from somewhere behind him, low and gleeful.

“But why,” Armin rasped, his mouth moving even though his mind felt very far away, “why would you wait so long to come after me?”

“The balloon has nothing to do with this,” Adler replied plainly. “It’s just the foolish toy of some heretics who thought they could break the King’s law. You see, Armin, when your pesky Squad Leader made us dig it back up, we found something that, unfortunately, we had overlooked.” Adler’s hand came down firmly on the juncture of Armin’s shoulder. “I’m not sure how they got it, but your parents managed to obtain something quite confidential.” He began to squeeze. When he spoke again, his voice was low – not quite a growl, but dangerous. “I don’t suppose they left anything with you. Did they?”

Adler’s grip dug into Armin’s shoulder. Armin was dimly aware of the sharp pressure but the pain seemed distant. He didn’t answer. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak, or even think.

The hand on his shoulder disappeared. “I’ll give you some time,” Adler said, his voice syrupy again. “I’m sure you have a lot to think about.”

Armin heard the door open. He was vaguely aware of someone else entering the cell as Adler left. The banging on the door resumed. The torches burned on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note - the next update may or may not be late. I've run into a rough patch with a couple of the future chapters, so it depends on whether I can get that sorted out in time to stay on-schedule. I'll do my best though! Thanks so much to the people who are reading this far and leaving comments, it really makes my day to hear what you guys think! I hope you all have a great day/night! <3


	18. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin is not having a good time, to put it mildly.

Hanji tugs Armin along the pasture fence to the wagon waiting by the barn, jabbering all the while about the balloon. “There’s so much fabric in there, you wouldn’t even believe it,” they say gleefully as Armin rushes to keep stride. “Just wait, before long we’re gonna make it into a canopy bigger than the whole lab!”

They reach the wagon and the stablehand scolds Hanji for not waiting for the horses to be tethered. The Squad Leader just waves him off with a laugh, saying something about having faith in their personnel not to let the horses wander off. They turn to Armin with a grin. “Go on, climb in and take a look! It’s incredible!”

Armin obeys, pushing himself up into the back of the wagon. He looks around at the mountains of crates piled high as Hanji clambers in beside him. One of the crates by his feet has been pried open, and within he can see layers of plain, neatly folded silk. He’s impressed that the horses were able to pull so much.

“Armin,” Hanji says, their voice suddenly serious. He turns to see all the cheer gone out of their face. They stare him down with a grim expression. “Why don’t you tell me how you got those bruises.”

Bruises…? Armin suddenly realizes that his throat is burning and his arm is aching in its socket. A chill races up his spine as the ghost of a large hand clamps down over his mouth. _You’re coming with me, understand?_ A phantom voice taunts in his ear. That’s right. He’d been attacked. Attacked out in the woods.

He must have explained this because Hanji narrows their eyes. “That’s… Are you sure it was a bandit? Did he say or do anything that seemed odd to you?” They ask him. Just like Erwin had.

And Armin tells them the same thing he’d told Erwin. No. A shadow passes over Hanji’s brow and their fingers curl against their chin in contemplation. “Listen, Armin…” they begin, and stop. They look like they’re struggling with something. But suddenly the smile springs back to their lips. “Be careful, okay? You’re a valuable soldier, especially working on a special project like this!” They pat him on the back. “I’m glad you’re not badly hurt!”

But something isn’t right. There’s something off about the way Hanji’s grin is plastered to their face. Armin looks to the side. He sees the prototype balloons piled in the corner of the lab – when had they gotten to the lab? The sight of them causes something to collapse in his chest.

“Does he know?” Says Erwin’s voice, from the other side of the door.

“I don’t think so,” Levi’s voice responds. “He doesn’t seem to, anyway.”

Armin feels desperation clawing up his throat. He looks back to the corner. The original balloon is there, the moth-eaten canopy swollen and suspended above the rickety basket, impossibly large in the cramped space of the lab. The fabric is bloated and rotten and the empty basket is bone white and brittle. Hollow.

“Oh, Armin,” Hanji says, voice dripping with pity. “You didn’t think they actually _made_ it, did you?”

The lab is fading. The furniture and cluttered piles of tools and papers are blurring out, becoming first flickering shadows and then nothing at all. The balloon’s canopy splits apart, unleashing a putrid cloud of dust and moths. Armin gags as it sweeps over him, stinging his eyes and clogging his mouth and nose with its foul stench. The fabric withers, flaking and curling as it twists and warps into bent, shriveled petals before it crumbles into dust. The peeling wallpaper of the lab has given way to cold stone, ringed with burning torches. It feels like staring into the sun. Armin’s whole body is screeching in pain, twisted stiffly as he is around a hard, unforgiving chair. Hanji is still grinning at him, lips stretched too wide, teeth stark.

Something yanks hard at his arms. A ragged gasp is all he can manage.

“So sorry about all this, Armin,” Hanji apologizes casually, spreading their hands in a helpless shrug. “There’s just no point in wasting resources on you. It really is a shame, but you’re smart enough to understand, right?”

But Armin can’t reply when his mouth suddenly fills with water. The world goes dark, blissfully dark, even as he chokes on the liquid flooding his nose and throat. It’s freezing cold and his lungs burn and spasm at the lack of air. Somewhere, the thought occurs to him that he is drowning. Is this the ocean? He wouldn’t mind drowning in the ocean. But there’s no trace on his tongue of the salt he thinks he’s read about. Only some rancid, sour taste. He feels his body thrashing somewhere, of its own accord, but something weighs him down, crushing against his shoulders, the back of his head.

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the water is gone. He hacks weakly as his body fights to force it out of his lungs. A sudden harsh blow to the stomach helps. His hair plasters to his face. The light is back, searing into his eyes again.

I’m going to die down here, Armin thinks with sudden clarity. Why did I waste so much of my time worrying over things? Why didn’t I ever tell Eren how I felt? All his concerns and insecurities suddenly seem so insignificant. Cowardly. His lungs are swimming with regret.

“I already know,” says a voice, and Armin’s eyes snap up to see Eren standing where Hanji had been. Grief swells into Armin’s throat. But something is wrong.

“I mean, how could I _not_ know?” Eren continues. His voice and his eyes are hard. “The way you’ve always clung to me makes it pretty obvious. It’s pathetic. You’re disgusting.”

No, Armin tries to gasp as something yanks hard at his hair, as something makes impact with his stomach again. This is wrong. He thinks he hears someone shouting at him but it seems distant, unimportant. That’s not what you think of me.

“No? Are you sure?” Eren stares disdainfully down his nose at Armin. “Did you really think things could go back to normal after you forced yourself on me?” Armin flinches at the words – they hit him harder than the blows. Eren continues. “You were just waiting for the opportunity, weren’t you?” His face breaks the stony mask and he sneers. “Our whole friendship was just you lusting after me, wasn’t it? Did you hope that I might feel the same? That someday you could live out your perverted little fantasies?”

No! That’s not true! The water dripping from his hair mingles with something warmer. You mean more to me than that, I was stupid, it was a stupid mistake—

“It was no _mistake_ ,” Eren spits. “You wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t wanted it. We both know that. You’re weak. You’ve always been weak. You can’t even be a good friend. You deserve this.”

Armin’s sob comes out as a dry rasp of air. It’s true and he knows it. How could he have expected Eren to still even _like_ him after that? He sees Eren recoiling in shock in the dim starlight. He sees Eren’s cold disappointment illuminated in moonlight. He shouldn’t have even hoped for anything else. Anything more than what he deserves.

But something else flashes across his mind. Eren’s arms tight around him. When was that? His throat is burning. Eren’s fingers slipping firmly around his own. Eren’s eyes piercing into his, green depths ablaze with warmth. Eren’s smile, soft and relieved and only for him.

You’re not real, he tells the Eren standing in his cell, the only clear image, stark and crisp amongst the hazy shapes and shadows shifting in and out of his vision. You’re not Eren.

The illusion scoffs. “That doesn’t matter. You know it’s true.”

It’s not! Armin cries. Eren still cares about me. I know he does! He clings to that thought, his last single thread of sanctity.

“Not enough to come for you, apparently,” the illusion says coldly.

Armin feels his insides ice over.

“I guess you’re just not worth it, Armin,” coos the thing with Eren’s face. “What else would explain why you keep getting abandoned, over and over? Even when you sacrifice everything, it’s not enough.”

No, Armin gasps.

“How long do you think it’ll take for him to forget you, just like everyone else does?”

No, Armin gasps. Not Eren. Eren wouldn’t.

“Eren already has,” Eren’s face says. “He’s left you. And you know Mikasa won’t come for you if he doesn’t. You’re still here, and you’ll never see them again. You’ll never see _me_ again.” The voice shifts in tone, warming. It sounds like Eren. “I’m sorry, Armin,” he says, voice softer and heavy with sympathy. “I have more important things to do.” He turns away.

No—! Armin struggles weakly against his restraints, against the rough hands grabbing at him, as panic spikes irrationally through his chest. Wait, don’t—! Please—!

But Eren ignores him. He doesn’t look back. The steel door shuts behind him with a final heavy _clang_ and he’s gone. Armin chokes on a ragged wail. He’s alone. His face is wet. The walls flicker incessantly, a dizzying spiral of flame and burning light. He still hears yelling in the distance but the screaming of his exhausted mind drowns it out. Something connects hard with his jaw and the fragile thread of his consciousness finally snaps. Everything vanishes but the light. Always the light.

\--

“Come on, Armin, what’s the matter?” Adler is demanding, his face swimming in and out of Armin’s wavering vision. “We haven’t even started yet. This isn’t going to end until you give me what I want.”

Armin doesn’t know. Adler must know that. He doesn’t know, please stop, please… He tries to say so, but he’s not sure if the words are coming out of his mouth. His thoughts clip through his head at a frenzied pace, disordered fragments of sensation and memory. Someone strikes him across the face. His father hoists him up into the air. Eren and Mikasa flop to the ground beside him in a field of flowers, smiling.

“Who was in charge here last night?” Adler is barking, his voice moving away. The fingers twisted cruelly into Armin’s hair disappear and his head drops, lolling onto his chest. “You kept him up too long, how do you expect him to feel anything like this?!”

Armin can’t register the meaning of the words anymore but he can feel the harsh edge of fury and frustration in the tone. The torchlight burns into his eyes. _Right, left, down, left, right, right, left, straight, down, left, straight, right_ , whispers something in his head. _Read to me,_ Eren’s voice murmurs in his ear. There is a small, dried flower stem beneath his fingertips.

“Feed and water him,” Says Adler’s voice, suddenly very close again, now cold and controlled. “And then let him rest.” A set of thin fingers grasp at Armin’s jaw for a moment, digging into his flesh like icicles. “The next time I’m here, I want him to know _exactly_ what’s happening.” The fingers disappear.

Armin thinks he’s at the ocean. He can hear waves roaring in his ears, but he can’t see anything. The glare of the sun off the water blinds him.

\--

The walls of Armin’s cell are much clearer when he next comes to. So are his thoughts. His gaze darts frantically around, his heart leaping into his throat, but he is alone, save for the torches’ constant unwanted companionship. Why is he awake? His body and mind are still throbbing with pain and exhaustion but nobody is here to beat him, or yell at him, or keep him awake. He is still alone. He can still sleep. His eyelids begin to droop.

_Right, left, down, left, right, right…_ whispers his mind.

His eyes snap open.

_…Left, straight, down, left, straight, right_.

He knows what that is. He remembers. The way out. Or… the way in? He has to get out of here. He doesn’t want to die down here. Not down here.

He tries to move. Why can’t he move? His wrists clack against steel. But there’s a little room.

He struggles to focus. _Think._ He twists and squirms. Metal bites and chafes at his hands. But something slips – what was that? He twists some more. His shirt sleeve! He contorts his fingers to grab blindly at the fabric of his cuffs behind his back, tugging them down over his palms as far as he can get them. He twists, squeezes, trying to pull his wrists up into his sleeves—

There! His hands slip free, burning where the edges of the shackles had scraped along his thumb. He hears the metal clank to the ground behind him. He freezes, listening. His heartbeat is too loud for him to hear. But nobody comes in. He stares at his hands for a moment. They look gaunt and foreign.

He shakes himself out of it. He can’t stop now. His ankles. His ankles are fastened to the chair legs. He leans over to look, bracing himself shakily against the edges of the seat. He heaves a sigh of relief. Rope.

His fingers are clumsy, trembling, weak. He can feel his heart pounding, sending tremors through his frail limbs. He nearly topples the chair more than once, but somehow, he manages to keep his balance as he yanks apart the knots. His fingers slip against the rope. It takes a while but he does it.

His legs are free. He is free. From the chair. He pushes himself to his feet, wobbling, collapsing against the chair for support. He can hear his body creaking and groaning, feel his joints grinding and popping, aching as he forces himself to stretch out some of his stiffness. It’s all he can do to keep standing. Bruises and welts all over his body cry out in protest at the movement. But he must. He must.

He must… what? His eyes dart around the room. The torches! He is seized with the frantic urge to tear them all off the walls and grind them into the ground so he doesn’t have to look at their awful light anymore. But as he takes his first staggering step towards one edge of the room, something in his head nags at him. No. He needs the torches. As much as he hates them, he needs them.

He struggles to pull one out of its bracket, nearly dropping it on his head, and then on the floor as its weight falls fully into his weakened arms. But he manages to keep hold of it. He stumbles towards the door, presses his back flat against the wall beside it, torch in hand. The warmth radiating from the flame feels strange on his frigid fingers. He waits.

And waits.

His knees threaten to buckle. His hands threaten to lose their grip on the torch. It’s all he can do to stay focused enough to keep his eyes open and his body upright. It hurts.

It feels like an eternity before the sudden _thunk_ of the lock turning snaps him back to full alertness. His body tenses, grip tightening on the torch, blood rushing hot through his limbs.

The door opens. Before the big brute of an officer can register his shock, Armin shoves the torch into his face, pressing and pressing. The man reels back screaming, clutching at his face. His back hits the opposite wall and he slumps into a writhing heap on the floor, but Armin isn’t looking at him anymore. The torch has gone out. He lets it drop and it clatters onto the stone.

Miraculously, there’s nobody else in the long, dim hallway lined with steel doors just like the one he just burst out of. _Right, left, down, left, right, right, left, straight, down, left, straight, right_. Okay, so, that, in reverse. He spins around, forgetting where he is. Okay. His open cell door is to his back. So, left. Right? He doesn’t have time to question it. Any moment now he expects Major Adler to come bearing down on him with that predatory grin, drag him back to the chair, slam the door on his one chance of escape, and who knows what they’ll do to him then. He takes off as fast as he can stagger, sticking close to the walls for support. It occurs to him too late that he should have brought another torch, but there’s no going back now. The acrid stench of singed hair fades away behind him.

The hallway is very long and Armin isn’t sure where he needs to turn. He runs through his mental list again. There should be a staircase somewhere on the right. His lungs are already burning with the effort it takes to stay upright on his trembling legs. Why hasn’t he run into any other guards? The air down here is musty with dust and disuse. The stone is freezing against his bare feet.

He nearly stumbles when the wall gives way to open space, but he somehow catches himself on a railing as he pitches forward. The stairs! Up these… up these, and then straight. He begins hauling himself up.

It’s a _long_ way up. Armin can’t even see the top. The stairs just seem to ascend into darkness, blessed, wavering darkness. He doesn’t know how long he climbs but each step is more and more painful, his legs locking up as they try to support his weight, his arms wrenching in their sockets as he tries to haul himself up by the railing. His body feels like it’s on fire. His head feels like it’s going to burst. He thinks he hears yelling in the distance. Has someone realized he’s missing? Have they come after him already? His breath rips through his throat like sand. All he wants is to give up, curl up in the sweet relief of this darkness, and sleep. But he forces himself to keep going. Up, then straight. Up, then straight. He has to do this. He has to get out.

But suddenly, he can’t go any farther. He pushes frantically and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s reached a door. He gropes along the cold, flat plane of steel for the handle. But it won’t budge. Locked. Armin wrenches at it uselessly, a silent sob wracking out of his dry throat, emptiness swelling in his ribcage. He can’t, not here, he can’t, he has to—

_Clunk_.

The door begins to open before he has time to move away. A flash of light slashes through the darkness in the widening gap and he winces like it cut him. In the split second before his weight sends him toppling through, he hears a commotion. Raised voices. Grunts. Dull thuds and harsh gasps. He’s going to be caught. He’s as good as dead. He’s never seen the ocean. Never said goodbye to his friends. To his family. To Eren.

He collapses forward as he spills out the door. A firm arm catches him across the chest before he can hit the floor. He struggles weakly but the effort is futile. He can’t even hold himself up anymore. A light swings wildly at the edges of his vision and the shadows spin like spiders in his head.

“Armin!” Says a voice. It almost sounds familiar but there’s something off about it. He struggles to lift his head as his captor grips him tighter, propping him up. But all he sees is a faceless shadow. It seems agitated, shoulders tensed.

“Armin! It’s me!” The shadow reaches up and pushes back a hood. Now Mikasa stares down at him. So it’s wearing her face, now? Armin can’t even bring himself to be surprised. But it won’t fool him this time. Her eyes are too wide, too panicked. Armin’s head drops. The light still dances through the edges of his vision, daggers in his mind. Another voice is barking something over the noise. Mikasa’s voice replies.

Armin feels his body being lifted. He feels warmth. Is that another body? He feels a heartbeat, rapid but steady.

“It’s okay,” Mikasa’s voice says in his ear. There’s an unconvincing tremor in it. The light is fading. “You’re safe now, Armin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter summary: Armin is really fucked up but even that's not enough to stop him, my boy is so strong!
> 
> I managed to get this chapter up on time but thanks for bearing with me! My planning for this story from here on out is a lot more vague so there's more I'm gonna be figuring out as I go. My guess is that this chapter marks roughly around the halfway point. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting! I can't express enough how happy it makes me to know that there are people enjoying this project. I hope you'll be able to enjoy the future chapters just as much!


	19. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin is back in safe territory and gets some much-needed comfort.

Armin’s awareness comes in brief flashes, little sensations that fade in and out of a long stretch of nothingness. One moment he’s being jostled harshly and his ears are filled with a constant, thunderous clattering. The next he is on something soft. There are hands on him, but these hands are gentle. He hears hushed voices in the distance. Whispered arguments – he registers the tone, but not the words themselves. Then warmth. Warmth and darkness. Silence. Someone crying. Something brushing through his hair. Somewhere, Armin registers that he is safe. He sleeps.

\--

\--

It was dark when Armin finally opened his eyes. He struggled to focus, his senses and his mind not quite in sync. His body still felt heavy, weighted and stiff with exhaustion and soreness. But as his eyes began to adjust he could see that he was in a bed, on a soft mattress, with clean sheets and clean clothes. And this was a proper room, with a dresser against the wall and a basin on the nightstand, not a cold, empty cell full of nothing but pain and torchlight. Armin squinted at the hazy shadows around him. He didn’t know this room. Where was he? He thought he remembered Mikasa, but he couldn’t be sure. How had he gotten out? Who had him now?

As his mind began to race, so did his heart. His breath grew short. He had to find out where he was, and who had him. He struggled weakly to push himself up on his elbows, his joints popping and ribs groaning in pain. But his body was so _heavy_ —

Suddenly something stirred beside him, and he realized with a jolt that the weight across his ribs was an arm. A jolt of panic flooded his system, whole body tensing, heels digging weakly into the mattress.

“Armin…?” Said a voice, thick with sleep. Armin’s feet slipped uselessly against the sheets as he tried to scramble away, but he was pinned beneath the covers and the arm and his limbs didn’t have the strength to move him. The voice came again, more alert and with a note of urgency. “Armin!”

Armin stilled as the voice finally registered. His breath caught in his throat, momentary terror melting into a desperate hope.

“Eren…?” He whispered hoarsely, hardly daring to believe it. He turned his head to the other side, to the shadowy figure stretched out atop the covers between Armin and the wall. Through the dim darkness, he saw the shadow hurriedly retract its arm and prop itself up on an elbow. He caught the flash of a familiar set of eyes.

“Armin,” Eren choked. “Thank god you’re awake, I…” The shadow of his hand hovered trembling over him, as if afraid to touch him again. “Are you…?”

Armin’s breath hitched and he grabbed for Eren’s hand, half expecting to grasp only air. But his fingers knocked against Eren’s knuckles, closed around the warm, calloused flesh of his palm. Eren made a strangled noise and clutched back at him, his hand trembling as he tried not to squeeze too hard.

“You’re really here,” Armin breathed, his throat burning and heat swimming in his eyes.

“Of course I am,” Eren said, his voice thick. “Of course—” He broke off with a loud sniff.

“Then I’m…” He broke off, brows contorting with the effort it took to think, to speak through the heat clawing its way up the back of his throat. “I’m really safe?” Armin could feel Eren’s warmth through the blanket between them.

“Yeah. You’re safe.” There was a short pause, the silence of the night broken only by the sounds of their uneven breathing as they stared wide-eyed at each other through the darkness. “Armin, are you… How do you feel?”

But Armin couldn’t answer. It was too much to suppress the fire burning in his chest. With a choked sob, he forced himself onto his side, rolling into Eren’s solid warmth. Armin felt Eren’s breath hitch as he buried his face in his shoulder, clutching him around the ribs, fingers clenching into the soft fabric of his shirt. Eren’s own arm encircled him immediately, gripping him tight – but not tight enough, he was shaking with the effort it took to hold himself back. Harsh sobs wrenched from Armin’s throat as he clung to him desperately, afraid to let go – afraid that, even if he didn’t, Eren might disappear into nothingness. He felt Eren trembling, face buried in Armin’s hair. He felt a wet warmth by his ear. He pressed as close as he could get through the thin barrier of the blanket, drinking in Eren’s scent and heat as it wracked through his battered body. A stiff ache grated painfully through his joints with each heave of his chest but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Eren’s arm around him, Eren’s breath on his cheek, Eren’s chest against his, warm and solid and _real._

For a while they just held each other, the silence broken only by their muffled tears.

“I’m sorry,” Eren choked against his hair. “I’m so sorry, I wanted to go after you right away but—”

“No— Eren, don’t—” Armin cut him off, squeezing at him as hard as he could manage. The worst of his tears had already run dry, as if his body didn’t have the resources to keep them going. His breath came in short, shallow bursts and he forced himself to deepen them, trying to reorient himself and pick up the scattered fragments of his mind. _Focus._ “I… How long was I…?”

“It’s been two weeks since… since they took you. You’ve been asleep here for half that.”

Armin swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, trying to pull his thoughts together. His head was throbbing. He had really only been imprisoned for a week…?

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Eren was continuing, curling even further around Armin. “Your injuries aren’t that bad, they said you’ll make a full recovery – _Fuck_ , Armin, I was so scared…” His voice wavered, low and vulnerable.

“How did you even find me?” Armin asked, struggling to piece together a picture that made sense. “I must’ve been… really deep in Military Police territory…” A haze of light and shadows flashed into his mind and he shuddered, his fingers tightening in Eren’s shirt.

“We gave them a taste of their own medicine,” Eren replied with a harsh snort. “Hanji stopped in for a surprise visit, to give a speech to the… the Budget Committee about the balloon, or something. While the focus was on them, Sasha disguised herself as an MP rookie. Those bastards are so fucking lazy they don’t even recognize their own soldiers.” His voice was laced with venom. “She managed to sneak into a restricted area and find out where their secret dungeon was. Then she, Levi, and Mikasa snuck back in that night. They were gonna try to find you without anyone noticing, but they got spotted and there was some fighting.” Armin felt Eren’s own hands clench into fists in the back of his shirt, and his voice trembled with suppressed rage. “I wish I could’ve gone in with them, I would’ve fucking _slaughtered_ those pigs…”

“You weren’t there?” Armin felt a sudden cold rush of inexplicable panic. _There are more important things I have to do_ , echoed a cold voice in his mind. No, he thought, and tried to shake it off. That wasn’t real. His heart shuddered in his throat.

“Of _course_ I was there. But I had to wait outside. As a last-resort threat, or some shit,” Eren grumbled.

Armin relaxed a little. Of course they wouldn’t let Eren go underground in an enemy stronghold, he told himself. His Titan ability would be useless there, and he risked getting trapped. He was just following orders. _If he’d been ordered to leave you,_ whispered the chilling voice in his head, _would he?_

But he was distracted from that train of thought when Eren pulled back a bit, just enough to look at him. With his vision accustomed to the darkness, Armin could see the dark hollows under Eren’s eyes, the few strands of mussed hair plastered to his damp cheek.

“But I heard you got out,” he whispered, his gaze flicking over Armin’s face and coming to rest on his eyes. “We might not have been able to find you if you hadn’t. Especially after they sounded the alarm. But you did and you found us and you’re _here._ ” Eren’s eyes were overflowing again, a glistening trail tracing down across the bridge of his nose and soaking into the pillowcase. But he was smiling, the corners of his lips trembling, exhausted, relieved. His hand moved from Armin’s back to cup his face instead, the pad of his thumb stroking gently along the curve of his cheekbone. “You’re so fucking amazing, do you know that?”

Armin squeezed his eyes shut, unable to meet Eren’s gaze when amazing was the last thing he felt like. He struggled to swallow. “I just got lucky,” he managed. He opened his eyes again, as something more urgent pressed in on his mind. “Where are we? Are you sure we’re safe? They might come after me…” They wanted something. But Armin’s head was pounding too hard right now to think of it. Crying seemed to have sapped out all his strength and left him exhausted once more.

“It’s okay,” Eren soothed. His fingers stroked through Armin’s hair, smoothing it out of his face. “The Commander arranged this safehouse for us. We’re just outside of Wall Sina. We’ve had guards posted the whole time, but nobody’s found us. You’re _safe._ ” His words were firm but his fingers were gentle, their rhythmic motions lulling Armin back towards sleep.

He tried to resist it, afraid that he would wake up back in that cell with light burning into his eyes and an awful, toothy grin to greet him. Afraid that he would wake up and Eren would be gone and he would be alone, that this would all have been another cruel hallucination leaving him gutted and hollow. He tried to say something, anything to stay occupied and alert, but his head was too scrambled to manage more than a confused series of broken, disjointed syllables.

“It’s okay,” Eren repeated in a hushed voice. “You should get some more rest.”

Armin didn’t want to. But he couldn’t fight it. His body was so heavy, sinking down into the mattress, and his mind wasn’t far behind. He kept his eyes fixed on Eren’s blurring features, pleading them silently.

“Do you want some space?” Eren asked, his gaze serious.

Armin shook his head, the movement jerky and frantic. “No,” he whispered hoarsely, his grip tightening around Eren’s warm body. “Please don’t go.”

“Okay.” Eren shifted, readjusting his arm to encircle Armin once again. “I’ll be right here.” His grip was firm. “I promise.”

Armin’s eyelids were too heavy to hold open anymore. As his consciousness faded, he felt a pair of dry lips graze his forehead, and then sleep overtook him.

\--

He woke to warmth and soft light and the sound of hushed voices.

“…A little disoriented, but he could talk fine and understand what I said.”

“That’s good.” There was a small sigh of relief. “Do you think he’ll sleep for much longer?”

Armin’s eyes pried open to a bleary view of Eren’s elbow propped against the mattress. He stirred, his body stiff, and heard two sets of breath catch.

Eren’s face appeared now, anxious but hopeful, his hair sticking up on one side. “Armin,” he murmured. “Hey, how do you feel? Do you need anything?”

“Eren, give him some space,” Mikasa’s voice chastised from somewhere behind him, though there was no edge to it, only a kind of breathless relief.

Armin struggled to push himself up and Eren helped him into a sitting position, back propped against the simple wooden headboard. Even that much winded him. He shut his eyes briefly, taking a few deep breaths to let the spell of lightheadedness pass.

Even the soft morning light spilling in thin shafts through the curtains hurt his eyes. He did his best to ignore the way it pricked like needles in his head. Instead he looked over at Mikasa, hovering by the bedside with concern painted over her features. The image of her cloaked in shadows, wide-eyed with worry, flickered through his mind. So that was real.

“Thanks,” he managed to rasp. His voice couldn’t sustain much more than a whisper. “For coming to get me.”

She let out a shaky breath, sinking into the bedside chair and reaching for his hand. Her cool, calloused fingers smoothed gently over his knuckles. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she murmured. Her dark eyes were glistening.

But Armin couldn’t quite bring himself to smile. He didn’t _feel_ okay. His weak, aching body aside, he felt heavy and sluggish, like his ribcage was filled with lead. He felt like he was looking at the room through a lens, and his mind was somewhere far away.

Eren and Mikasa were exchanging a look. “Armin,” Eren said gently, his warm hand resting against the small of Armin’s back. “Do you think you can eat?”

Armin gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not hungry,” he rasped. He knew he should be. His body felt empty. But the thought of food made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

“You should try,” Mikasa coaxed. “They’re… The officers will want to talk to you now that you’re awake. You’ll need to get your strength back.”

Armin smiled bitterly and looked down. His wrists were pasty white and painfully thin atop the blanket. “Yeah. I guess they’ll want to make sure it was worth the trouble of getting me out.”

Mikasa’s grip tightened around his hand and Eren’s fingers curled into the back of his shirt.

“Don’t say that,” Eren said. Maybe it was the lighting or maybe Armin’s eyes were still bad, but his face looked unusually pale, the spaces beneath his eyes unusually dark.

“Why? You know it’s true—” His voice cracked as something caught in his throat and his words devolved into a dry coughing fit that seemed to wrack his whole body. Mikasa hurried to scoop something out of the basin on the nightstand, and the next moment she was pressing the rim of a cup to his lips. He felt cool beads of moisture and his head tilted instinctively.

“We should go get Hanji to look at him,” he heard her say. “Just in case.” Something inside him twisted in harsh revulsion at this idea, but his body refused to let him break away from the clean water soothing down his raw throat.

“Yeah,” Eren agreed distantly. The cup shifted a little as he took Mikasa's place holding it up. Her voice shifted away.

“I’ll be right back.” The door opened and shut softly.

Armin reached up and pushed clumsily at Eren’s fingers. He got the hint and let Armin take the cup. Even holding it between both palms, it nearly slipped out of his trembling grip. Eren steadied his hands. Shame burned in Armin’s throat.

Even so, he drained the cup of water. Eren leaned across him to set it back on the nightstand, then looked back at him in concern.

“You don’t need to push yourself,” he said, reaching for Armin's hand.

But Armin shook him off. “Of course I do,” he retorted harshly. His voice was a little steadier after the water. “We can’t hang around here forever. The war won’t stop just for me.”

Eren quickly retracted his hands and pressed them into his lap instead, still sitting cross-legged on the mattress beside Armin. He looked at a loss, caught somewhere between speech and silence.

Armin ran a shaky hand through his hair, which was only slightly stringy – someone must have washed it since he’d been brought here. That’s right, he thought. Nothing was over yet. The Military Police hadn’t gotten what they wanted out of him. They – Adler – would probably come after him. He doubted they would waste time capturing him again, now that they knew he didn’t have what they wanted. The next time they found him, it would probably be to just kill him. His breath came shallow around the lump in his throat. All because…

The door clicked open again and Mikasa hurried back in… followed closely by Hanji. Armin’s jaw clenched and he stared down at the blanket over his knees instead.

“Good morning, Armin,” Hanji greeted, voice forcibly light as they approached the bedside. “Glad to see you finally awake!” Armin didn’t answer and he didn’t look up, too busy suppressing the tension in his shoulders and the unpleasant heat coiling in his gut.

“Right.” Hanji cleared their throat awkwardly, and the bedside chair creaked as they lowered into it. “Um, Eren…”

“Oh, sorry.” Eren slid off the bed somewhat sheepishly, clambering gingerly around Armin so as not to jostle him. He took up a spot by the far wall beside Mikasa instead, folding his arms, fingers tapping restlessly against his elbow.

“Alrighty then, Armin,” Hanji said, their superficial cheer grating harshly on Armin’s nerves. “Just gonna give you a quick checkup, if that’s okay. Can you do a few things for me?”

Despite the irritation stabbing sharply into his mind, Armin nodded stiffly. He forced himself to follow Hanji’s instructions without complaint. Look this way, look that way. Open your mouth. Bite down. He sat still while they poked and prodded, answered their questions obediently, if somewhat rigidly. He refused to meet their gaze.

“Can you tell me your name and age?”

“Armin Arlert. Twenty.”

“Where were you born?”

“Shiganshina District.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“In a safehouse with the Survey Corps.”

This went on for a short while. Armin kept a tight rein on his patience, which stretched thinner and thinner with each pointless question. Just get this over with, he told himself. Just get this over with, and then they’ll leave. Finally, Hanji sat back with a sigh.

“The good news is, none of your physical injuries are critical. They’re already on their way to healing, so as long as you get plenty of rest and take care not to get any infections, you should be back on your feet before long.” They paused, and cast a glance over their shoulder at Eren and Mikasa before turning back to Armin and continuing, their voice low and expression grim. “Listen… I know it’s not something you want to dwell on, but… I’m going to need you to tell me what you remember about what the Military Police did to you. There may be other medical complications, so—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Armin snapped, the last of his patience finally giving out. Heat clouded his head and the words fell spitefully from his tongue. He didn’t seem to have the ability or the inclination to control them anymore. “Don’t worry, they mostly just beat me and refused to let me sleep for days. Oh, and they barely gave me food or water, and almost drowned me a few times. But thanks for getting me out before they started cutting me up, I think they were working up to that.” His voice came out harsh and grating, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. “At least I had plenty of time to find out what they wanted. That’s what you really want to know, right?”

He finally looked fully up at Hanji. The Squad Leader sat with their hands in their lap, lips pressed thinly together, their eyes hard and guarded behind their glasses. Eren and Mikasa stood stiff and alert at the back of the room behind them.

“Armin,” Hanji said, reaching for his shoulder. “Try not to get too worked up—”

But he knocked their hand away, ignoring their words. “You _knew,_ ” he spat, not taking his eyes off Hanji, well past caring about his tone, or his audience. “You all knew, this whole time.” All his superiors’ cryptic comments and evasive questions made sense now, and anger bubbled up into Armin’s throat. “Was it funny for you, watching me work on the balloon without a clue that it belonged to my parents?”

Eren made a noise, but Hanji didn’t move. Armin plowed ahead, his body trembling with the heat rushing through veins, making him dizzy. “You knew that might make me a target, didn’t you? It makes a lot more sense now that a high-ranking interior officer would just drop by out of nowhere! Oh, and that ‘bandit’ attack, too.” A hollow, humorless laugh wrenched out of his throat. “And you never once thought to tell me! Was it out of pity? Or were you just waiting to see if something like this would happen, so you could find out what they wanted? Congratulations, your plan to make bait out of me worked perfectly.”

Hanji finally shifted, their brows drawing together as they exhaled slowly. “Armin…”

But Armin turned away, his teeth clenching hard. “My parents stole some kind of documents from them,” he said bitterly, but the venom in his voice was fading. “They didn’t say what kind of documents, and they were mistaken to think that I have them or know anything else. It was a waste of effort. For everyone. So just go.”

Silence filled the small room for a moment, and then there was the sound of Hanji standing up from the chair.

“Alright.” Hanji yielded, their voice somber. “Armin, you stay in bed and rest. I’ll have someone bring up a light meal for you. Eren, Mikasa.”

There was shuffling. “Come on, Eren,” said Mikasa’s voice, sounding strained. Armin kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his back rigid and his lips clamped shut to hold in the hard lump in his throat.

The door clicked shut, and he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this chapter fulfills the double purpose of also being my big middle finger to the filler scenes in the anime episode that aired today! What perfect timing! :))))


	20. Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin struggles to deal with the aftermath of the kidnapping. Luckily, despite what his pride tells him, it's not something he has to do all alone.

His arms quavered beneath him and finally buckled. Armin slumped chest-first onto the wooden floor, grimacing at the ache in his still-tender ribcage and breathing heavily.

Twelve.

Twelve pushups was all he could manage. He lay on the floor for a few moments, humiliatingly winded. Twelve was more than he’d managed yesterday, but it brought him no solace. He’d regressed so much in such a short time.

He struggled onto his feet, breathing hard, and paced restlessly around the small room. He wasn’t confined here, by any means. He had healed enough to move around by now, and the only thing he was prohibited from was going outside, lest some interior spy catch sight of him. But he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the way the others tried not to stare at him. The way they coated their voices in cautious sympathy when they addressed him. The way they treated him like something _fragile_ , trying to dodge around the subject while there, under the surface, their curiosity bubbled away. They wanted to know. They just didn’t want to be the one to drop the shattering blow.

So he kept to his room, mostly, even though it was small and cramped and claustrophobic. It was the last place he wanted to be, really. He wanted to go outside and lose himself in the woods, get swept up in the sound of the wind through the leaves. But it was forbidden, and there were guards posted. So he kept to his room and tried to build his strength back up. It hurt, but anything, anything, to keep himself busy.

Hanji was not too happy about this, having come in for a checkup to find him slumped in a lightheaded heap on the floor. You risk reopening your wounds, they told him. You need to make sure you get enough rest, they insisted. But that was the last thing Armin wanted to do. And hearing it from Hanji made him childishly dig his heels in even more. It was almost funny, he thought humorlessly. How long had he spent _begging_ for the sweet relief of sleep? But now that he could get it, it felt like a massive waste of time. It felt like a concession, a concession to the heavy weight that had taken up permanent residence in his head, constantly dragging down his thoughts and his mood and whispering sluggishly that he should just… _stop_. Armin was afraid of that weight. Afraid of what it did to him when it won. So he kept himself moving as much as he could manage.

His eyes caught on the mirror above the dresser as he paced, and he stopped to stare at his own reflection for a moment, despite the nausea roiling in his stomach at the image. He looked gaunt and hollow-eyed… but at least his face wasn’t swollen anymore. A borrowed cotton shirt draped loosely over his narrow frame. With morbid curiosity, his fingers curled around the hem and he tugged it up to his chest. So fucking skinny. His body seemed foreign and ugly, bones stark beneath the skin, the sickly yellow of old bruises creeping out beneath the bandages, which still covered the more unsightly lumps of broken, slowly-healing flesh. Armin let the shirt drop back down, and turned away from the mirror in disgust. He’d only been out of action for a few short weeks, but it felt like years’ worth of training undone.

He paused at the window now, gazing out at the thick forest surrounding the house. He wondered if he’d been put on the second floor intentionally, so he couldn’t climb out the window. Somewhere, in the logical part of his mind, he knew that was unlikely. But he couldn’t help the bitter taste of resentment on the back of his tongue.

Songbirds flitted branch to branch among the full, leafy canopies. Armin could hear their cheerful twittering through the glass. He usually loved the sound, but now, just like everything else, it only grated harshly on his nerves. They were out there, and he was in here. It always came back to that, didn’t it? Outside and inside. Freedom and confinement.

His throat constricted and his breaths grew thick. He could feel the walls of his room creeping up behind him, prickling at the back of his neck as they closed in. He whipped around, panic spiking through his chest. The room froze. Nothing was out of place – everything was right where it should be, innocently immobile. But there seemed to be some kind of tension in the walls, as if the room was holding its breath, just waiting for him to turn his back on it again so it could clamp down around him.

_Sleep,_ the bed called to him, a vast stretch of rolling sheets that crept up the floor like a rising tide. _Sleep, and let go._

The heavy weight in his mind agreed, tugging towards the soft temptation of the mattress. But Armin resisted. He could see beneath the gentle caress of the sheets a bright, sinister glow, like the flicker of torchlight.

The sheets lapped at his ankles, whispering sweet invitations. Armin jerked away, stumbling back. There was a loud, wooden clatter as his hip connected painfully with the edge of the dresser. He couldn’t breathe. It was going to drown him. He had to get out. He bolted for the door, shaking off the tiny fingers that clutched at his pant legs. For a horrible moment the doorknob wouldn’t turn. But he wrenched at it harder, and the door burst open under his weight.

The worst of the panic washed away as Armin tumbled out into the empty hallway. He straightened up and took a few breaths to steady himself, humiliation creeping into his chest even though no one was around to see. Was this really what he’d been reduced to? He cast a glare back at the immaculate room as he yanked the door shut behind him. He was going outside, rules be damned. If he stayed cooped up in this suffocating house any longer, he’d lose what was left of his mind.

So he made his way downstairs, keeping to the hallways he’d discovered were less-frequently traveled. With something of a goal in mind, the trembling in his limbs subsided. He didn’t run into anyone, thankfully – there was only a small group of soldiers here. Besides Eren, Mikasa, and Hanji, the rescue team had also been comprised of Sasha, Levi, and three others for extra security.

Armin had been avoiding Eren and Mikasa as much as possible. They’d come by his room every once in a while, but he feigned sleep or just didn’t answer the door. They seemed to get the hint, and didn’t push it. Guilt hung heavy in his ribs for it. He knew they were worried, could tell by the way their footsteps lingered reluctantly in the hallway outside his room. But he didn’t want them to see him like this. The thought of getting _their_ pity made bile rise up in his throat.

Armin reached the back door unhindered, and paused to peer out the window. There was a short stretch of lawn and then a thick wall of trees. Thick enough to get lost in. If he could just make it across the grass without being spotted… it shouldn’t be too hard. They didn’t have enough manpower to patrol too deeply into the forest. And then…

“Armin?”

His fingers froze on the doorknob. He didn’t look up at the sound of Mikasa’s voice. There was a long stretch of silence.

“What are you doing?” Mikasa asked. Her tone was calm and non-accusatory, but a stab of irritation twisted into Armin’s gut. Why did she have to show up _now?_ He kept his head down, his face masked by a curtain of hair. It was getting longer, but now he was grateful that he hadn’t trimmed it back yet.

“Getting some air.” He had to force the words out through the tightness in his throat, and they sounded stiff and awkward. He swallowed thickly, his hand still resting on the doorknob but making no move to turn it. There was no point anymore. Mikasa could stop him easily even if he were at peak condition.

“…I’ll come with you.”

He looked up at her in surprise now. Her expression was carefully stoic, and she met his eyes firmly. There was no room for argument – the conditions were clear. She wouldn’t stop him or scold him for disobeying orders, but she was going.

Armin dropped his gaze again, his teeth clenching. He didn’t want or need someone hovering over him. He didn’t want to be watched, not now, not like this, but… but the alternative was to just go back to that room. He bit down his pride. “…Fine.”

He heard the soft rustle of her skirt as she approached. Doing his best to ignore it, he finally turned the doorknob.

The warm, sweet air that wafted through the crack in the door was almost enough to make him cry. He kept ahold of himself though, all too aware of his audience, drawing in a shaky breath and checking the surroundings before he emerged all the way. There was still no sign of the patrol. His heart racing, he stepped out.

The grass whispered against his borrowed shoes as he hurried across the short stretch of lawn, Mikasa keeping swift, silent pace with him. The earth was soft and springy beneath his feet, the bright grass quickly giving way to the dark, rich-scented padding of the forest floor. Armin’s legs carried him farther, faster, as if of their own volition, as if the fresh air had breathed some of the strength back into them. He forged ahead, forgetting everything, until the safehouse was out of sight and all around him was just trees and leaves and scattered sunlight. And when his chest grew tight he finally stopped, his palm bracing against the rough bark of a tree, and he _breathed._

It was warm, he noticed as he filled his lungs with the fragrant air. Even in the shadows of the vibrant green canopies above, it was warm. It must be closer to summer than spring by now, he realized distantly. He felt jarred, out of place, like he’d taken a misstep in time somewhere along the way. But he breathed, letting the forest and the birdsong seep into his body, hoping it might re-align him with the world.

Even out here, though, he wasn’t truly _outside._ That knowledge chewed away at the fringes of his mind. He tried to ignore it, to push it back, he didn’t want to think about that, not now. But it wouldn’t stop. He tried to draw breath, but it came shallow and shaky. The rough bark against his palm seemed to ripple as the tree began to grow, all the trees began to grow, knotholes twisting into toothy smiles as their crooked fingers wove together above him, around him— _No, not again, not now, not in front of Mikasa—_

Mikasa. He looked wildly around for her, and there— There she was, off to one side at a respectful distance, scarf draped loose around her neck, her eyes scanning the woods, intent and alert – alert, but not alarmed. Safe. He was safe.

He breathed.

The bark was still beneath his palm. The trees were silent and somber. Mikasa was calm. He was safe. He was glad she had come.

He swayed on his feet, lightheaded, pinpricks of heat in the corners of his eyes. His knees felt suddenly weak and he stumbled the few short steps to a nearby fallen log. He sat heavily down on it. A gentle breeze shook the leaves above, and Armin flinched as a patch of light flashed across his eyes. He lowered his head into his hands, pressing at his aching temples.

“Are you okay?” Mikasa’s voice was soft, but clear through the sound of the stirring canopies. Through her carefully neutral tone, Armin could still hear the underlying note of concern.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, anger on his tongue. He could feel her eyes burning into him. He hunched in on himself. “You don’t need to babysit me.” The words sounded harsh and petulant even to his own ears. He struggled to control himself. This wasn’t her fault.

He glanced up in time to see a slight crease form in her brow. “I’m not babysitting,” she replied calmly. “I’m helping my friend sneak out.” But a nearby patch of ferns rustled as a bird landed in them, and Armin saw her posture tense as her gaze snapped towards it.

He resisted the urge to snort. She was just here to bodyguard, after all. _I’m not helpless!_ He wanted to scream, even as the memory of his arms collapsing beneath him, walls shrinking down around him, lurked in the background of his mind. His eyes stung. He knew the truth.

“You shouldn’t have let me out here,” he muttered. “It defeats the purpose of the safehouse.” And if anything happened to him this time, the Survey Corps would have no reason to bother with saving him again. Not anymore.

“It should be fine,” Mikasa replied. “We’ve patrolled for weeks and there’s been no sign of any humans but us. Nobody knows we’re here.”

_Maybe that’s what they want us to think,_ Armin’s brain provided unhelpfully. The desire to retort, to argue like a bad-tempered brat, rose up in his throat. His mouth opened, but Mikasa cut him off before he could speak.

“Besides,” she continued, “you looked like you needed this. It’s not good for you to… to stay cooped up inside.” Her eyes seemed to grow distant, wistful. Like she was gazing into the past. She turned away, her nose ducking into her scarf.

A wave of guilt washed over Armin, and he looked down at the tree roots twisting and coiling into the earth. He didn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t be lashing out at her like this, she didn’t deserve it. Why was this so difficult? His breathing hitched, chest constricting and pressure building behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut. His head was throbbing.

Suddenly, a loud rustling caught their attention. Armin’s head snapped up and Mikasa whipped around, tensing as she took a defensive stance in front of him, watching for the source of the sound. Armin’s breath caught in his throat, his mind flashing back to a different clearing in a different forest, a strong hand clamping over his mouth, blood on his tongue—

A figure appeared, pushing through the underbrush, and stopped short.

“Mikasa?” Said a familiar voice. Then, incredulously, “ _Armin?”_

Mikasa’s posture relaxed, and the indistinct figure melted into Eren, looking between the two of them in surprise and a little bit of alarm. Armin quickly dropped his gaze again, the burning in his chest becoming almost unbearable.

“What are you doing out here? Did something happen?”

“Eren. Everything’s fine,” Mikasa placated. “We were just taking a walk.” Her voice took on a slightly sharper tone. “What are _you_ doing out here?”

There was the sound of shuffling and grumbling. “Just. Taking a walk,” he muttered.

Armin peeked up at him. Eren was scowling at the ground, scuffing at the rotted leaves by his feet. Armin swallowed, loathing how fragile and miserable he knew he looked right now. In his head, he knew that these were the last two people he should feel uncomfortable around. But he still couldn’t help imagining judgment in the weight of their gazes. Everything he’d worked for, all his efforts to feel like someone worthy, felt like nothing. But…

Eren seemed to sense it, too. He shifted his weight self-consciously, his eyes flicking back up to Mikasa, then sliding over to Armin. “Do you… Should I go?” He asked, his thumb jabbing in the general direction of the house.

Mikasa said nothing, turning her body to defer the decision to Armin. Armin couldn’t bring himself to speak. Their eyes were on him but the strain in his throat would snap if he opened his mouth. An irrational frustration surged up into him. They were looking at him, waiting for his answer, but he didn’t want their pity but if he spoke he would cry but couldn’t they see he _needed_ them?

He took a deep breath and shook his head firmly. _Don’t go._ He kept his eyes down and shielded by his hair. He kept his spine rigid so maybe they wouldn’t see the trembling in his shoulders.

There was silence for a moment. Then the crunching of leaves. Armin stared down at the dirt beneath his feet, fists pressed into his lap as he counted the grains. Anything to keep his breath steady, to bite back the rising pressure in his throat as he listened to Eren and Mikasa approaching. A shadow fell across his feet for a moment and then disappeared as two bodies settled carefully on the log on either side of him.

Nobody spoke. The leaves whispered above them and birds called back in cheerful singsong. The air came shallow and ragged through Armin’s lungs, but somehow, he managed to get it somewhat under control.

“Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. His throat ached with the effort. “I shouldn’t have… You’re not…” His voice was staggered and halting as he fought to find the words and hold himself together. “I didn’t mean to…”

Then a warm, calloused hand touched his, and he just couldn’t do it anymore.

His body gave a violent shudder and a sob tore out of him as if his throat had ruptured. The hand clenched around his and there was an arm around his back now, bodies pressing in on him from both sides, steady columns holding him up even as he collapsed in on himself. And the words came.

“I just – I can’t believe they _knew_ ,” he choked out between gasps. “The whole time, the whole fucking time – No wonder the Commander didn’t believe that guy in the woods was a real bandit, he m-must’ve been an MP mercenary or something… God, I f-feel so _stupid_ …” Armin gave a shaky, hollow laugh.

“Well how could you have known?” Eren demanded, his hand tightening around Armin’s and Armin was gratified to hear the anger in his tone. “How the hell are you supposed to guess at something like that?”

“Maybe I could’ve,” Armin admitted bitterly. “I thought it was weird, the way Hanji and Levi talked about the balloon to me. I might have been able to figure it out, if I’d pushed them about it. But…” His words hitched. “It never even occurred to me. I’ve spent all this time… so convinced that my parents made it outside… I r-really believed that, like some… naïve idiot…” He gave an ugly sob and scrubbed at his streaming eyes with his free hand. “They left me – they _left_ me, and I told myself it was okay, because at least they got to leave these godforsaken Walls, and see some of the world, but – but no, instead they w-went and got tortured to death in a dungeon as far away from freedom as they could possibly get, and now _I’m_ left to… to finish what they started and pay for more mistakes I never even knew they’d made, like some sick joke, and I’ll probably end up just like them anyway— God, I wish I could be more like them and just _go_ — Fuck humanity, fuck responsibility, I should’ve cut that rope and gone when I had the chance—” Armin wasn’t sure if his words were even intelligible anymore, but they kept pouring out, desperate and mangled by his tears. “But no, I had to come back, I just couldn’t let go of _obligations_ and _loyalty_ to people who _knew_ the whole time, who _let_ this happen to me just to try to get some information, who would’ve let me _rot_ if they’d known it was a dead end, _fuck_ them, I wish I’d just _gone_ —”

His voice finally cut off, devolving into choked sobs that convulsed through his body, tears spilling hot down his cheeks. There were arms around him, warm and tight, tight enough to send creaks of pain through his bruised ribs. He felt Eren’s body hitch with his strangled breaths, felt dampness on his shoulder through his shirt. He felt Mikasa pressed close on his other side, her cool hands curled around his tightly-balled fist. Pressed between the two of them, everything seemed to wring out of Armin’s throat, his lungs, his heart.

They shook there for a while, until Armin couldn’t cry anymore. He kept his head down and tried to wipe at his face with his free hand, a disgrace of tears and snot. “Sorry,” he managed weakly. His throat was raw and sore. He hadn’t spoken this much since he’d woken up, and certainly not so vehemently.

“Armin,” said Mikasa, her hands tightening around his fist, her voice firm and almost urgent. “Listen. Even if Command had decided not to do anything, we would have come for you.”

Armin finally lifted his head and met her gaze. Her eyes were solemn and her lips pressed into a grim line.

“We should’ve done it anyway.” Eren muttered darkly against Armin’s shoulder. “Fuck their plan, it took too long, we should’ve just _gone_ the second we found your bed like that…”

Armin’s heart twisted at the guilt coloring Eren’s muffled voice. He coughed a little to clear his throat. “It would’ve been too dangerous to go by yourselves,” he found himself reasoning, his voice steadier but still wavering. “Even you two couldn’t brute-force your way through if you didn’t know the layout or where I even was…”

“There are ways of finding that out,” Mikasa stated, her voice so flat and chilly Armin felt the back of his neck prickle. But at the same time, he felt a wry smile tug inexplicably at the corner of his mouth.

“You two are so reckless,” he muttered with a sigh.

“Exactly,” Eren grumbled, then lifted his head off Armin’s shoulder. “That’s why we need you to talk us out of shit.”

Armin’s faint smile deepened slightly, aimed down at the soft forest floor. It was strange, he thought, even as tears began to swim in his eyes again, that despite the exhaustion pounding through his skull even worse after the exertion of crying so hard, his head felt oddly cleared. He let his fist relax and clasp back at Mikasa’s hands, and reached for one of Eren’s still around his ribs. A few quiet moments passed. Nestled between the two people he loved the most, he breathed.

As his thoughts began to reorganize, something nagged at the back of Armin’s mind. “What did you mean, when you found my bed like that?” He asked.

He felt them both tense on either side of him. “Well… That night, when I went to go check on you, your… your space was a wreck, it was obvious that something had happened.” Eren’s hand squeezed Armin’s, voice darkening at the memory.

“A wreck…?” It took a moment for Armin’s mind to catch up, but then his eyes widened. “Oh… I guess that makes sense.” He hadn’t even thought about that.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, Armin. They took all your stuff.”

“Not that there was much there to begin with,” Armin muttered. It stung to lose all his books, but—

His books. His _book._

Eren must have noticed the slight change in his posture, because he stumbled to continue. “Wait, Armin— they didn’t get your grandpa’s book. We left it in my room that time, remember?”

Armin struggled to sift through his memory, then heaved a sigh of relief as it came back to him. “Right. Yeah, I remember.” Losing that would’ve been the final blow, one last slap of contempt. Then again, he thought bitterly, the book wasn’t his only heirloom anymore, if you counted the balloon.

Something about that notion stuck in his mind, a little pinprick of a thought. He frowned, his brow creasing. The pinprick of a thought began to unfurl into an idea.

“Hey, Eren,” he said slowly. “Where is that book now? Did you leave it back at base?”

“No, I… I brought it with me,” Eren replied. Something in his voice sounded a little sheepish. “It’s in my room in the safehouse.”

Armin stood abruptly. “I want to see it,” he said. The other two, still joined at his hands, followed suit in surprise. They exchanged glances, seeming to recognize something in his expression.

“Right,” Eren said, and they started back.

They made it back to the safehouse easily, only pausing to let the patrol pass by before leaving the cover of the woods. Inside, it was just as quiet as before. Nobody seemed to have noticed that Armin had been missing.

They turned a different way at the top of the stairs, and Eren led the way to his own room – he was not relegated to the basement this time, it seemed. The room was a little smaller than Armin’s, and messier than Eren usually kept his space. The bed was unmade and his extra clothes were piled unceremoniously atop one end of the small dresser. Armin immediately spotted the familiar book lying atop the bedcovers. Eren quickly swiped it up and passed it to him.

The heavy, leatherbound tome was almost foreign to the touch. Armin ran his hands over the worn cover, then flipped it open to the front. Eren and Mikasa peered over his shoulders as he smoothed his palm over the paper lining the inside of the front cover, traced his fingers along the edges where it was glued to the leather.

“What is it?” Eren asked by his ear.

Armin tapped at the lining, feeling the stiff cover thunk beneath his fingertip. “Do you see how this paper is a lot less faded than the pages?” It was still old, but nowhere near as yellowed as the rest of the book.

“Okay. So what does that mean?”

“Well, it’s possible the lining was just repaired at some point. But what if…” Armin turned the book over, flipping to the back cover now. He pressed his fingers to it, and caught his breath. It almost felt like… there was a bit more give. He ran his thumb along the edges, and felt a very slight ridge.

“I need something sharp,” he said, turning abruptly to set the book on the clear half of the dresser. Eren started to turn to look around, but Mikasa swiftly produced a small pocket knife. Armin accepted it, flipping it open with no hesitation and scoring a straight line down one edge of the book’s lining. Eren made a small noise of surprise, but he sounded far away. Armin’s heart was beating loud in his ears. He sliced across the top edge of the lining, and peeled the paper aside.

Beside him, Mikasa sucked in a breath.

“Is that…?” Eren’s incredulous voice trailed off.

His fingers trembling, Armin pulled out the two sheets of paper that had been sealed behind the lining. They were crisp and perfectly flat after a decade beneath the book’s weight. He was almost afraid they might crumble into dust under his touch.

“A map,” he murmured. There was no mistaking the pattern of lines and symbols adorning the page. Armin took a shaky breath. He looked up, meeting the wide-eyed gazes of Eren and Mikasa. “Of outside the Walls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! This chapter was a challenge for me and needed a lot of editing and rewriting before I could get it to a point where I was more satisfied with it, so I took a little extra time to get my wonderful best friend and beta reader to look over it again. (Seriously this fic would be so much more of a mess without his input, I am so lucky and grateful that he's willing to work with me on it. Thanks babbu! <3)
> 
> And the plot thickens! Armin's still not doing too great but now that he's had the chance to really vent and get some good old-fashioned trio cuddles, it'll make a big difference. Many thanks again to everyone who's been reading and commenting! It makes my day to know there are people enjoying this. I hope you have a good one, too!


	21. Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survey Corps officers discuss a new discovery. Armin's still on edge, but gets a chance to relax.

Hanji’s and Levi’s eyes snapped up as Armin abruptly shoved through the door to the sitting room, tailed closely by Eren and Mikasa. Hanji looked momentarily bewildered. Levi’s tense posture relaxed slightly, and he scowled.

“Haven’t you brats ever heard of knocking?” He snapped. “We’re in the middle of something here—”

“Wait, Levi.” Hanji cut him off, their eyes flicking between Armin’s stony expression and the papers clasped in his hand.

Armin strode into the room, straight towards officers, and dropped the papers down onto the coffee table before them.

“These are what the Military Police were after,” he said, his voice stiff and his spine straight. He kept his gaze level, staring at the far wall while Hanji and Levi leaned over to peer at the documents. A moment later, Levi drew a sharp breath, and Hanji made a strangled noise.

“This… no way.” Hanji sounded like they were having trouble breathing. “So you… Where did you…?”

“They were hidden in a book I’ve had since childhood,” Armin replied briskly. “I just found them.” In his peripheral vision, he saw the officers exchange an astonished look before honing back in on the documents.

“The MPs had a map of the _outside?_ ” Hanji’s voice was strained with a mix of shock, disbelief, and indignant fury. They gave a dark, tremulous laugh. “I can’t believe those guys… This is invaluable, _fuck…_ ”

“What is that?” Levi interrupted, jabbing a finger at a spot on the map. “Something’s marked down.”

“You’re right… it’s not labeled.” Papers shuffled as Hanji slid the second document out from behind the map, squinting down at the carefully lettered text. “‘July 10, 842. Delivery complete. Twenty cans dried milk, three sacks grain, one crate revolver bullets. Exterminated nest of small, dog-like creatures that took up residence by lake. No other issues. September 6, 842. Inspection complete, no issues…’” Hanji trailed off, and for a few moments, the room was dead silent. “You have got to be kidding me,” they said quietly. Armin glanced down. Hanji’s face was wide-eyed and ashen, still fixed on the documents. Levi’s fingers curled over his mouth, his brow furrowed intently.

“Jaeger. Ackerman.”

Armin heard the pair snap to attention behind him as Levi addressed them, his voice grave.

“I need one of you guarding the door, one of you guarding the window. Nobody is permitted to enter until I say so.”

“Yes sir!” Two sets of footsteps hurried to the exit. The door opened and then closed.

“Should I leave too, sir?” Armin asked stiffly. But Levi met his gaze, holding it for a long moment before he answered.

“…No. You should be here for this.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Take a seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Armin didn’t make for the extra space on the sofa the officers occupied, or the armchair adjacent to it. Instead he took a few steps over to the desk against one wall, pulling the old wooden chair from beneath it and setting it to the opposite side of the coffee table. He took a seat, gritting his teeth against the desire to slouch as the weight came off his feet. He was drained after his outburst in the woods, and it already felt like it had been an extremely long morning. But he refused to let himself lose his focus or his composure. He folded his hands primly on his lap, and waited.

Levi expelled a long sigh, the air hissing out between his teeth. “If this means what I think it does,” he said slowly, “then we need to contact Erwin.”

Hanji nodded gravely. “If these documents are legitimate, then it looks like the MPs have some kind of outpost outside the Walls.” Their voice still trembled with suppressed anger. “Judging by the way they went after Armin… it’s probably safe to say that this outpost is either still in use, or at least still exists.” They looked up now, and met Armin’s hard gaze.

“The question is,” said Levi, “what are we going to do about it?”

“If I may ask,” Armin interrupted, not really waiting for permission before continuing. “I think Adler had realized that I didn’t know anything by the last time I saw him. As far as he knows, I don’t have those documents and don’t know anything about their contents.” The name caused his stomach to twist into knots, but he kept his voice cool and measured. “However, thanks to the interrogation, I know there are documents that the Military Police is afraid of being leaked. It is safe for them to assume that the Survey Corps may now be aware of that fact, as well…”

“You’re worried about another faction war,” Levi said. Armin nodded curtly. “That’s part of why this squad hasn’t returned to headquarters yet. We can be sure that there are spies watching for us.” He scowled. “Officially, we’re still out tracking down the bandits that nabbed two of our soldiers. The interior pigs know that story’s bullshit by now, but Erwin doesn’t think they’ll launch an attack on our whole army when they’re not sure how much we know.”

Hanji nodded. “Right. We’ve had very little contact with base since we got you out, and that’s been heavily coded and very secretly delivered. Hell, even I don’t know how you delivered those messages.” They cast a sidelong glance at Levi, who just gave an ambiguous shrug. “We were just discussing how we were going to go about this whole situation, but… this changes everything.” Hanji looked back down at the papers. “Erwin needs to know about this. We’ll need to decide what action to take, and soon, before the MPs find us… or decide they’re sick of waiting.”

“Think we could use this as blackmail?” Levi wondered aloud. “Threaten to disclose it to the public?”

Hanji hmmed skeptically. “That depends. We don’t know for sure what this outpost is being used for. If we tried to go public with such incomplete information, they could come up with any excuse or cover story, accuse us of libel, and find some justification to blatantly come after us.”

Levi grumbled. “Well it can’t be good if they’re imprisoning people just for being potentially connected to it.”

“I agree,” Hanji sighed. “But we have no concrete proof.”

“How are the Military Police even getting so far outside the Walls, anyway?” Levi squinted down at the map. “This is miles outside Wall Maria, even farther than the Survey Corps has ever made it. There’s no way those stuffed turkeys could make it through all those Titans,” he scoffed.

Hanji frowned. “Good question.” They picked up the second document, scanning through it again. “Here, this first entry says ‘Clearance: Jalrut, Lieutenant Stalrick.’ And this one is ‘Clearance: Ruhmort, Lieutenant Forbes.’” They paused and fell into thought for a moment. “Ruhmort is where the Military Police Headquarters is in Wall Sina. Jalrut… where’s that, again?”

“It’s a small town along the northeastern border of Wall Rose,” Levi supplied, while Hanji lurched off the sofa to unpin a map of the Walls mounted above the desk. “But there’s nothing there – The area is poor in resources, so it doesn’t have a big trade market and barely farms enough to feed itself. It attracts a lot of lowlifes.” His brow furrowed.

Armin considered, ignoring the ache in his head. Relay points within Wall Sina and Wall Rose. The Military Police couldn’t be traveling directly through Titan territory, and there was no way they were going over it, which meant the only other possibility was—

“Tunnels,” Hanji murmured, reaching the same conclusion as they spread the Wall map out on the coffee table. “Ruhmort and Jalrut must be where the entrances are.”

Levi seemed a little skeptical, though. “That would have to be a damn long tunnel,” he said. “And the first one we’ve heard of to be able to get under the Walls. Do we even have a guarantee that this ledger is related to the map, and didn’t just get mixed in by accident? How do we know that the spot on the map was even marked by the MPs?”

Hanji sighed. “I know. We’re doing a lot of guesswork here. But the Military Police wouldn’t get so freaked out over nothing. Maybe the ledger really is just documentation of supply drops. But Jalrut and Ruhmort both line up more or less with the point on the map… and if Jalrut is just some slum town like you said, why would they be sending military supplies there? It’s sure not out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“The lake,” Armin interjected impatiently. “The first entry in the ledger mentioned chasing animals away from a lake. There’s nothing like that around Jalrut, only a small river, look…” he pointed to the area on the Wall map. “Also,” he continued as something else occurred to him, his finger sliding over to Wall Sina. “This is just conjecture, but… remember the underground city that was planned to be built underneath Stohess? The project was terminated suddenly, even though construction was already underway, and there was never an official explanation for it aside from ‘lack of funding.’ But if there was a tunnel that started in Ruhmort and ran through Jalrut all the way to the point outside the Walls…” He drew a line with his finger northeast from Ruhmort. “It cuts through Stohess District. The underground city would have run into that tunnel, so they cancelled the project.”

Hanji and Levi stared up at him, looking to Armin like dumbstruck children. Then they turned their gazes to each other.

“I’ll be damned,” Levi muttered, shaking his head.

“Well,” Hanji said, squaring their shoulders. “We’ve worked with less evidence before. Only one way to find out.”

Levi shot them a look. “Don’t go getting any ideas yet,” he warned. “We need Erwin’s input on this.”

“Aww, come on, Levi.” Hanji nudged him in the ribs with a small grin, their usual perkiness creeping back into their voice. Armin suppressed a scowl. “We have leave to ‘act accordingly with the situation,’ and now that the situation’s changed—”

“You forgot part of it,” Levi interrupted sourly. “It was ‘act accordingly with the situation, _to protect the interests of the Survey Corps’ goals and members._ ’ Rushing into something we don’t fully understand without proper planning will only put all of us in danger.” He frowned. “I’ll send a message to Erwin tonight. All we can do for now is wait. Arlert still needs to finish recovering, anyway.” His steely gaze flicked to Armin, who pressed his lips together and said nothing.

A shadow flickered briefly over Hanji’s countenance. “Yeah, you’re right,” they sighed in defeat, slumping back against the sofa. “We’ll wait for his reply and discuss it more then.”

\--

“Hold on, Armin.” Hanji stopped him as he made for the door. The impromptu meeting was over, and Levi had left to dismiss Eren and Mikasa from their guard duty, leaving Hanji to take care of the documents.

Armin stopped dutifully, turning to face the Squad Leader but not quite meeting their eyes. They approached, papers rolled securely in their hand, and stopped a few paces away, examining Armin’s face for a few moments before letting out a sigh.

“Look… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents. You deserved to know.” They scratched awkwardly at the back of their neck, looking a little guilty. They opened their mouth to continue, but Armin cut them off.

“I understand,” he said, his voice clipped and dispassionate. “Telling me might have interfered with my ability to focus objectively on the project. You made the rational decision.”

Hanji didn’t seem quite satisfied, though. “I just don’t want you to think that you were assigned to the project out of malice, or as some twisted joke. You were picked for your intelligence and strategic abilities, and you proved to be invaluable to the development of the balloon.”

“Yes, I’m sure you realized quite quickly that I wasn’t the least bit familiar with it,” Armin replied. The words came out colder than he’d meant them to, but he couldn’t bother to stop himself. “As you can see, I’m no stranger to being kept in the dark. If you’ll excuse me… I need to finish recovering, after all.”

Without waiting for Hanji’s response, Armin turned on his heel and strode briskly from the room into the empty corridor. An uncomfortable heat filled his chest and his head, his hands trembling and a bitter taste on his tongue. He’d never had a temper like this, never would’ve thought he’d be so blatantly rude to a superior, much less one who was trying to apologize to him. But he was _angry._ He couldn’t help it. He was angry at his superiors for keeping this from him. Angry at his parents for getting caught, at the Military Police for killing them. Angry at himself, for feeling obligated to do his damn duty and report his findings, even after everything. Even when he wished more than anything that he could just leave it all behind.

But he was also _tired._ It pinched at the backs of his eyes and crept into the cracks between his thoughts. But he didn’t want to go back to his room, the room that felt like almost as much of a prison as his cell, a trap of nothingness and nightmares and self-imposed solitude. His anger carried him through his exhaustion for now, his legs marching on even as his thoughts began to scatter and his steps grew heavy. But where could he go? Not to his room, not back outside, not to the other areas where other soldiers might be with their not-so-subtle stares… He balked as he reached the staircase, turning in an aimless circle, unsure of which way to go but not wanting to stop moving. If he stopped moving the exhaustion would overtake him. He could feel it, feel sleep’s claws digging in behind his eyes…

“Armin!”

His body turned automatically and he saw Eren hurrying down the hallway to catch up with him. But he was alone – Armin’s brows furrowed as his mind caught up with why that seemed odd.

“Where’s Mikasa?” He asked as Eren came to a stop before him. The words came out sounding slow to his ears.

“It’s her shift for patrol,” Eren explained. “How’d it go?”

Armin shrugged. “Fine, I guess. There’s not much we can do yet, we have to…” He grimaced and ducked his head a little, rubbing at his temples to try and relieve the pressure there. What did they have to do, again? “We have to wait for the Commander…”

Eren’s lips twisted a bit, as if that wasn’t what he’d meant, but he just shrugged. “I guess that makes sense… Are you okay? You look kinda out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Armin insisted, his voice clipped. But his body, a disappointment as ever, chose that moment to sway, and he had to steady himself against the wall. His thoughts were growing hazier.

Eren sighed. “You’re just as proud as ever,” he muttered with a wry smile – although there was something almost pained about it. “Here, come on…”

His hand found Armin’s, fingers sliding between his to clasp their palms together. Something inside Armin buckled at the contact, and he let Eren lead him up the stairs. The warmth of his hand and the simple reassurance of his presence was soothing, a momentary reprieve.

But he stopped in his tracks when they reached the door to his room, unable to help the alarm swelling into his throat even though he knew deep down it was unfounded. “No—”

Eren paused, his hand halfway to the doorknob, looking back at him with a frown. “Armin, you look exhausted. You should get some rest.” His tone wasn’t coaxing or impatient – it was just a statement.

But Armin shook his head, his hand tugging at Eren’s as he took a step back. He didn’t want to go back in there. It was stupid and irrational. But he just. Didn’t.

Eren’s brows furrowed, watching the way Armin’s eyes fixed warily on the door.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. He turned. Relieved, Armin followed him through a few short turns of the hallway, their hands still clasped. They stopped in front of a different door – Eren’s, Armin remembered.

Eren turned back to look at him. “Is this better?” He asked.

Armin blinked, slowly processing this suggestion. Somewhere, it occurred to him to be embarrassed, like a child crawling into a parent’s bed after a nightmare. But the weariness settling into his bones and fogging up his brain won over.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, nodding.

Eren nodded back, silent and serious, and pushed open the door. They stepped into the small room and – it was odd how much less claustrophobic this one felt, even with its space slightly cramped by the bulky furniture. There was something comforting about its dim darkness, like the unvarnished wooden walls drank in the afternoon light filtering through the sole shadowed window.

Eren let go of his hand now, wordlessly moving to tug the bedsheets back for him. Armin braced a hand against the mattress while he bent to slip off his shoes, then climbed up onto the bed. He slowly tugged the sheets up, his body heavy and his head heavier. The mattress creaked as Eren sat down on the edge, turned to look down at Armin.

“I’ll be right here,” he promised, gently brushing the hair away from Armin’s face. Armin fought to keep his eyes open, but sleep didn’t seem quite so terrifying anymore. He kept his hazy vision fixed on the figure above him for as long as he could.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes finally slipping shut. The pillow had the same sharp, foreign scent of a stranger’s house as the one in his own room, but lingering above that was a different scent. A familiar one. He pressed his face into it and lapsed into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I don't have an excuse for being late on this one... I was just procrastinating. Oops.
> 
> This chapter was maybe a bit dry, but hopefully it was still entertaining! Thanks so much for reading! <3


	22. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin finally get their moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get out! I never meant to take such a long hiatus... I realized this chapter needed some big revisions right before I got too busy IRL to work on it, so I got really thrown out of my groove. However, with this, I am hoping to get back on my every-other-Saturday schedule and I'll do my best to stick to that. Thank you so so much to everyone who's been sticking with this fic, or who've recently picked it up, it means so much that you guys are still interested! Without further ado, here's the new chapter! I hope you enjoy, and that it's worth the wait! <3

Armin woke to darkness and the faint chirping of distant crickets. He shifted groggily, still heavy and dazed with sleep, the hazy shadows of the foreign room gradually solidifying as he registered where he was. Something felt different, but he couldn’t quite place what that was. His head seemed to be full of water, bogging down his thoughts as they tried to wade through it. But it didn’t seem to really matter, anyway. It was warm and dark and quiet and safe.

As he stared vacantly out into nothingness, another sound surfaced over the noise of the crickets. It was breathing – long and slow, slightly out of sync with his own. Somewhere, he felt the distant click of recognition. Willing his sluggish limbs into motion, he rolled over carefully.

And there was Eren, wedged into the remaining space between Armin and the wall, much like he had been that long, long week ago when Armin had first opened his eyes. But this time, he was sleeping. Armin could just make out his features in the faint glow from what little moonlight filtered through the curtains. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the serious set of his brows were relaxed, his lips slightly parted in sleep, dry and cracked with the telltale signs that he’d been biting at them. But without the harsh creases of wakeful worry, his expression looked innocent and unguarded and peaceful.

He was also without a pillow, his head resting awkwardly on one arm, his cheek smushed and some of his hair sticking up at odd angles. Armin felt briefly guilty to have usurped his bed like this, but it was quickly lost to a swell of overwhelming fondness, mingled with something heavy and bitter. How could he ever have been afraid? He wondered, his thoughts suddenly, briefly clear. How could he ever have thought that Eren might really abandon him? A cruel, chilling voice still lurked in the back of his mind, icy tendrils curling in his ribcage. But Eren didn’t _have_ to be here. He didn’t have to be by his side now, or back when Armin had first woken up. But he _was,_ as if it was the most natural thing in the world, close enough that Armin could feel the glow of heat seeping from his body, comfortable enough to look so vulnerable. Armin felt tiny pinpricks in the corners of his eyes. Eren had always been there for him, with him. Even when Armin hadn’t expected him to be.

He found himself reaching for Eren’s other hand, which lay curled loosely atop the sheets. But he paused when Eren’s breath stuttered briefly, then continued in a light snore. Armin curled his own fingers, and let them rest on the mattress, instead. He might wake Eren up. There were still deep shadows beneath his eyes. Let him rest.

Armin’s mind was fogging over again. He faded slowly back into sleep, lulled by the sweep of Eren’s jaw, the slight twitching of his eyelids as he dreamed, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

\--

The next time Armin drifted into consciousness, his body felt oddly light, his head oddly clear – at least compared to how he’d felt the last few days, anyway. He’d slept better, too, than he had since he’d first woken up. Maybe it was because he’d finally let out some of the pressure that had been building up inside him. Maybe it was because so much had happened, and it drained him enough to sleep well. Maybe it was because he’d gotten out of that godforsaken room.

At any rate, the simple absence of a nightmare was an almost unbelievable weight off his chest. He almost even felt… _okay_ as his eyes slipped open, his body shifting to stretch the sleep out of his spine. The bed was warm and comfortable and the room was bathed in a golden light. But something was different. He was alone.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around the empty room as he took deep breaths to quell his heartbeat before it could begin to pick up speed. It’s fine, he reminded himself sternly. It’s fine, he has chores to take care of…

He paused as his eyes landed on something new atop the nightstand. Next to the bedside lamp lay a set of neatly folded fresh clothes, with a single sheet of paper resting over them. Armin’s gaze caught on his name scrawled in a familiar hand at the top, and he reached for it with a breath of unconscious relief. The expensive paper was smooth beneath his fingertips as he rested the note on his lap.

_Armin – Hey, sorry if you wake up and I’m not around. It’s my shift in the stables this morning and then my turn to hunt. I would’ve woken you up but you looked like you needed rest. I’ll be back later this afternoon._ Something was scribbled out here. _Stay here as long as you want okay? See you soon. -Eren_

_Oh don’t forget to eat either I brought up some breakfast, hope it’s not cold_

Armin looked up and saw that the dresser’s surface had been mostly cleared. There was a small tray waiting there, bearing a covered bowl and a spoon laid neatly beside it. He wasn’t that hungry, but the gesture left a tinge of warmth in his chest. He turned his attention back to the note. Beneath Eren’s jagged scrawl was another message, the letters running together in careless yet elegant handwriting.

_I’ll come by again at lunchtime._

He re-read the note a few times, feeling the simple, straightforward words wrap around him like two familiar pairs of arms. He was alone right now, but they were still with him. He let out a breath, stretched a little stiffly, and climbed out of bed.

\--

The day passed uneventfully. Armin stuck to Eren’s room, for the most part, with the exception of slipping out to wash the sweat and stress from the past few days off his skin. There was a new note from Mikasa when he got back – he had missed her before she was called away for cleaning duty, but she had replaced the unfinished bowl of breakfast gruel with one of vegetable soup for him.

He combed his damp hair and put on new bandages, still wincing at the effort it took to do it himself but refusing to ask for help. The sight of his mottled flesh still sickened him, and he was grateful to tug the fresh shirt over it when he was done. He looked out Eren’s window, and sat on Eren’s bed, and picked halfheartedly at the tasteless soup. Some guilt twisted in his stomach as he nudged a carrot around in the broth before setting the tray back on the nightstand with a sigh. He’d known it was close to lunchtime when he’d gone to the shower. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Mikasa, or that he was afraid of how she would treat him. But he still couldn’t help feeling a sting of embarrassment when he remembered his messy outburst yesterday. And now here he was, hiding away in Eren’s room. She would be there for him, without scorn or disdain. But he’d already made her go out of her way for him enough. He just… needed a little more time to get himself together.

He couldn’t avoid Eren, though. Not unless he retreated back to his own room – even just the thought had him tasting bile. What would he say, after this week of barely seeing him? He should apologize. He should explain. He should tell him about…

A chill began to creep up his neck, and he tried to stop himself short as his mind began to turn in that direction. No, not… not now. Not when he was finally beginning to feel more stable. His ribs throbbed beneath his bandages, and the room felt suddenly colder, the afternoon sunlight seemed brighter where it lay across the wooden floor, almost blinding…

Armin clenched his teeth, forcing himself to take deep breaths through his nose. No, he wasn’t going to do this now, he was safe, he was _okay._ His eyes darted around, looking for anything to distract him, and stopped on his book where he’d left it on the dresser yesterday. He pushed himself up enough to lean across the small space and grab it with trembling hands. As he smoothed his palms over the familiar worn leather, the racing of his heart began to subside. He exhaled slowly. He was okay.

He pulled his legs fully back up on the bed, flipping open the book more out of habit than anything. His eyes glazed over the table of contents, which he knew by heart, and he thumbed absentmindedly through the first few pages, past illustrations of towering sand dunes and the old comforting descriptions of arid continents and the strange desert creatures that made their homes there. The corner of his lips twitched upwards involuntarily as an old scene drifted into his mind. The words were lost to him, but like so many other scenes from their childhood, he and Eren sat in the clearing of a secret cluster of bushes, poring intently over the book and making wild guesses over how anything could survive in a place where there was so little water.

There was… something else, though. Something else he still needed to say. He flipped to the middle of the book, skimming through a few more pages until a small, dried purple flower bobbed to the surface of some inky waves. Armin closed his eyes, trying to call up the memory of a rainy morning that felt like a lifetime ago. He took a breath. He wasn’t afraid of this anymore. He knew it would be okay. _They_ were okay. It was just a matter of how and when to bring it up.

He suppressed a yawn and closed the book, setting it aside on the mattress and laying back to stretch out atop the covers. He squinted at the deepening light streaming through the window. Eren was taking a while. Mikasa hadn’t come back around, either. Was she still working, or had she decided to give him space? Armin frowned to himself, resolving to go find her sometime tonight if he didn’t see her before then. Was Eren still out hunting? Stealth had never been his strong suit.

Armin sighed, blinking his heavy eyelids. His mind wandered through imaginary conversations, until the words blurred together and faded into nothing.

\--

A soft click registered distantly through Armin’s doze. Then some light rustling, a gentle clink, and the brief sensation of movement, though he wasn’t processing how far apart these things were happening. At some point, he managed to nudge his consciousness back into wakefulness and when he shifted, his leg bumped into something that hadn’t been there before. His eyes fluttered open.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” said a voice. “Did you get a good rest?”

Armin turned onto his back, still nestled in the soft pillow. He gazed down at Eren, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, his back to the wall and the book on his lap, and was struck by an odd sensation of double-layered déjà vu. It almost made him want to laugh at how little some things had changed, no matter how much time had passed or how much they’d been through.

“Yeah, actually,” he replied, his voice still thick with sleep as he pushed himself into a sitting position and raked the hair back from his face. His gaze drifted around the room. It was dimmer than before, the waning light beginning to tinge with gray. He must’ve napped for a while. “Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to take over your bed like that.”

But Eren shook his head. “I offered it, didn’t I?” He frowned. “I noticed you didn’t really eat, though.”

Armin shrugged. “I guess I just wasn’t that hungry.”

“You need to keep your strength up.”

“Yeah. I know.” Armin forced a thin smile, trying to reassure him. “Dinner’s soon, right? I promise I’ll get something down then.”

“Okay.” Eren paused, his eyes flicking briefly down, then back to Armin. “Think you’ll eat with us tonight?” The question was carefully casual.

“Mm.” Armin made a noncommittal noise, his eyes tracing along the edge of the dresser instead. The idea made something prickle unpleasantly in his throat.

“No, huh?”

Armin sighed. “No, I… I should.” He knew it was something he couldn’t avoid forever, after all. “But I just… I dunno. It’s stupid.” He tried to shrug it off.

“It’s not,” Eren insisted with a frown. “And it’s fine if you’d rather not. I can bring something up for you.”

Armin met his steady gaze, feeling his expression relax a little. He could see himself – he was doing it again, dodging around things again. But this was _Eren._ There was no reason for him to be doing this. He could face this.

He lowered his eyes, fingers twisting together where they lay in his lap. “It’s just… I haven’t been feeling like myself lately,” he admitted haltingly. “And I feel even less like myself with everyone _looking_ at me like… like they _expect_ me to be different. I don’t know… maybe it’s all in my head.”

“No, I get it,” Eren sighed, his head tilting back against the wall. Staring up at a spot on the ceiling, he continued. “You walk into a room and the conversation dies, and everyone does a really shitty job of trying not to stare. Then you can tell they’re kind of picking around their words ‘cuz they don’t know how you’ll react. It really makes you feel like less than human.” He smiled thinly into the air, then shrugged. “They’ll get over it eventually.”

Something squeezed painfully in Armin’s chest. He shifted onto his knees and shuffled the short distance to Eren, settling against the wall beside him. Not thinking too hard about his actions, he leaned into him. Eren adjusted around him, the movement seamless and natural as his arm slipped around Armin’s shoulders and they slotted together side to side.

Armin exhaled, slow and deep, as Eren’s warmth seeped in through his shirt. “Thanks,” he murmured from where his head rested against the crook of Eren’s shoulder. His heartbeat was steady. He could feel it pulsing in his body – _his_ body, here and now. He was here. He was tethered.

Eren’s arm tightened around his shoulders in response. They were quiet, for a while. Armin’s eyes wandered idly over the dark walls, the plain sheets, the open book in Eren’s lap. The lines of text flowed along in a familiar, calming motion. Armin found his mind going blank, an effect only two people in the world had on him, immersed in the rhythmic rise and fall of his ribcage against Eren’s. He felt as if he could easily fall back to sleep like this, forget the world and all his troubles for a while as he drank in Eren’s solid warmth, his comforting scent. He felt his eyelids begin to droop.

“Hey, Armin,” Eren murmured after a while.

“Mm?” Armin blinked his eyes back into focus.

“Yesterday, when you said… when you said you wished you’d taken the balloon and cut the rope and gone…” There was something unusually hesitant in his voice, and his fingers picked absentmindedly at the shoulder of Armin’s shirt. “Did you really mean that?”

Something in Armin’s chest twisted at the subtle waver behind Eren’s voice, despite his carefully controlled tone. He sighed.

“No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t really mean it. I think… I think it’s just that part of me wishes I _could_ do that, you know?” He paused for a moment to mull it over, and Eren waited patiently for him to collect his thoughts. “My parents didn’t let anything hold them back. Not even their own child.” He smiled bitterly, and Eren squeezed his shoulder. “In some ways, I envy them for that. But… I can’t overlook the fact that their selfishness did a lot of harm. I mean, they kept a revolutionary piece of technology from humanity.”

“And landed you on the Military Police wanted list,” Eren added darkly.

“Right.” Armin was silent for a few moments. “I… I can’t be like them. It would be easier if I could. But I can’t. There’s too much at stake.” He gave a one-armed shrug, then the corner of his lips tugged upwards a fraction. He took a breath. “Besides… even if I _was_ being entirely selfish, I couldn’t have just flown off on my own that day. That would kind of defeat the purpose.”

Armin couldn’t see his face from this position, but he could tell from the slight hitch in Eren’s breath that he understood.

“So,” Eren said quietly, “so you really do still want to…”

“Of course,” Armin murmured.

Eren let out a sigh. The sound of shuffling drew Armin’s eyes to the book as Eren turned a few pages. The tiny purple flower surfaced again, like a familiar face, bringing with it a tide of buried emotion.

“I was so happy when I saw that you kept this,” Eren said, his voice soft. “I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid. It’s just a flower, but— but it’s not, it’s…” Armin felt him shake his head a little. “You seemed so upset. I thought you threw it away, and I thought, maybe… maybe you didn’t want to go with me anymore.” He sighed. “I dunno, maybe now’s not the best time to talk about it…”

“No, we should.” Armin echoed the sigh, feeling the familiar heaviness of guilt in his ribcage, though without the rush of panic this time. It was strange, after everything that had happened, to reorient his thoughts to this. But it had to be done. “I’m so sorry… we should have talked this out properly a long time ago. But I was… afraid of losing you.” A warped version of Eren’s voice echoed in his head. _You’re disgusting._ He shuddered internally, but he took a breath. He knew better. His resolve was firm, and this conversation wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it had been all that time ago. “What I did was wrong, and I’m sorry. Even if you’re not holding it against me.”

“Huh?” Eren stilled, his voice clouding with confusion. “What you did? Wait, you’re talking about when… about after Maria, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Armin frowned, feeling his face grow hot with shame. It wasn’t as terrifying, but it still was far from easy. He sat up a little, away from Eren’s side, feeling small and frail and ugly. “I shouldn’t have… come onto you like that. Especially not when I knew you’d been drinking.”

But Eren didn’t move his grip from Armin’s shoulder. “What? Armin, I— I kissed you first.”

Armin blinked, and finally looked up to meet his gaze. Eren stared back at him, brows furrowed, cheeks flushed.

“What? No, _I_ did—” He broke off as his brain spun with the effort to call up a moment he’d tried so hard to ignore for so long. But then Eren’s words sank in. They stared at each other, wide-eyed.

“Oh, my god,” Eren groaned, his head falling back against the wall as his free hand came up to cover his eyes. “I am so _stupid._ ”

Armin let himself sink back against Eren’s side, a brief, nervous laugh bubbling up from his throat. His head buzzed slightly with a mix of embarrassment and adrenaline. “So am I.”

“So,” Eren said after a moment, his hand dropping back down to the book. “So you really were that, um… into it?”

Armin’s face was hot for an entirely different reason now. “Yeah,” he admitted. He paused. “And I… really wasn’t pushing you?”

“Not at all.” Eren gave a long sigh of relief. “When you bolted afterwards, I really thought… And then that night in Solfeld…”

“I thought I’d hurt you,” Armin murmured guiltily. His heart was already settling back into a slower pace. “In Solfeld, you… you seemed angry.”

“No… well, I was angry, then. But not at you.” Eren’s fingers began to toy idly at the page corner, his hand resting alongside the crisp purple flower. “Things were finally going good between us again, you know? I was even thinking that maybe I could…” He trailed off and Armin felt him shake his head. “But then as soon as that night was brought up, I could tell it really upset you. I thought I’d fucked up so bad you didn’t even want me in your dream anymore.” He laughed, shakily. “Not that I would’ve blamed you.”

He was picking more roughly at the pages now, the corners beginning to curl under his worrying. Armin reached over, gently prying his fingers away to lace them with his own instead.

“Ah… sorry,” Eren said with a choked laugh. “I’m fucking up your book again.” His fingers slotted effortlessly between Armin’s, up to the bony ridges of his knuckles, resting on the page above the flower.

“Eren,” Armin murmured, pressing his face into Eren’s shoulder, feeling his warmth beneath the softness of his shirt. He didn’t think – he didn’t need to. “I love you.”

He felt Eren’s chest hitch, felt the grip around his shoulders tighten and press him closer into Eren’s side. Felt Eren turn his face against his hair, squeeze hard at his fingers.

“I love you too,” Eren whispered hoarsely, his breath ghosting through Armin’s bangs. “God, Armin, I love you so much…”

Armin slipped his other arm between Eren and the wall, gripping hard around his waist. His ribs ached and his lungs felt strained, like they weren’t getting quite enough air despite his deep breaths. For so long, he’d never dared to think this moment was possible. Once it might have sent his head into the clouds, but right now what he felt more than anything was _relief._ Relief at finally getting it out and speaking the words that had beat for years in his heart, at hearing it echoed back at him on a familiar voice, raw and honest. Relief at having lived long enough to be here. He was here. He was here and Eren was here and they were real and they were together, holding each other in the silence of a small room in a stranger’s house.

The moments lingered comfortably around them, quiet and peaceful, the only sounds the rise and fall of their breaths and the last trills of birds going to roost in the trees outside. The lengthening shadows stretched sleepily across the dim room. Armin was nearly drifting off again, his head nodding against Eren’s chest.

_CLANG!_

A metallic crash echoed from the hallway and yanked Armin out of his reverie, and for a brief, horrible moment, he was somewhere else. But then Levi’s voice drifted up the stairwell, announcing dinner. He relaxed, but he could feel a trembling in his core, a cold sweat on his brow, his heart pounding.

“What happened? Are you okay?” There was a note of alarm in Eren’s voice, his body instinctively tense.

Armin sat up straight, pulling away and disentangling their hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, keeping his face turned down and away while he took a few breaths to compose himself. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he insisted. “The noise just… startled me, is all.” He swallowed, but there was a lump in his throat now. When he looked back up Eren was frowning, his brows creased. But he didn’t push the issue. He gently closed the book on his lap and set it aside, unfolding his legs and stretching them across the mattress, hands bracing on either side of him in preparation to push himself off the bed.

“Alright,” he said simply. He paused, meeting Armin’s gaze. “Do you want to come?”

Armin hesitated, glancing down again. He hated the thought of slinking into the dining room and feeling all eyes turn to him in surprise and uncertainty. He hated the thought of weathering their unspoken questions and judgments and assumptions, which he couldn’t even disprove when he was so easily undone just by the sound of a few pots and pans. In the end, he was just as pitiful as they thought he was.

But… he didn’t _want_ to be. And deep down he knew that the longer he avoided it, the deeper he would sink and the harder it would get. He looked up at Eren beside him, still gazing unwaveringly back at him. He swallowed. “Not really,” he admitted, and set his jaw. “But I will.”

Eren’s lips tugged into a crooked half-smile as he slid off the bed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Me and Mikasa will be right there with you.”

Armin followed a little more reluctantly, though he felt his expression relaxing. “I know,” he replied quietly, and slipped his hand back into Eren’s.


	23. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin indulges in a quiet evening with his best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all that angst, it's only fair that I reward you (and myself) with some tooth-rotting fluff. Hope you enjoy! <3

“That wasn’t so bad,” Mikasa commented quietly as she and Armin left the dining room together. Behind them they could hear the clink of silverware being collected and the murmured voices of the others still milling around. Armin couldn’t shake off the creeping feeling that they were talking about him.

He must have grimaced, because Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think so?”

He gave a halfhearted shrug, glancing back over his shoulder. They were still alone in the hallway. “It was fine, I guess.” It had actually been supremely uncomfortable, but he hadn’t expected much different. Every silence had seemed too long and pointed, Sasha’s chatter seemed much too loud and cheerful. Armin had kept his eyes on his plate and his mouth mostly shut, burning up on the inside at how stilted and unnatural everything felt, sure that the heat must be showing on his face. The only reasons he managed to sit through the whole meal was because of Mikasa to his right, a silent fortress, and Eren to his left, knee pressed against his own beneath the table. And even so, it left an air of gloom hanging heavy over him now that it was finally over. Gloom, and exhaustion. All the energy from the ridiculous amount of sleep he’d gotten seemed to have deserted him, leaving him sapped dry. With a sigh, he dug the heel of his palm against his eye, wondering darkly if his body would ever function normally again.

“Tired?” Mikasa asked.

Armin shook his head, not sure if it might be awkward if she were to escort him back to Eren’s room. “Is there anywhere we can go until…?”

He trailed off, but Mikasa caught his drift and gave a sharp nod. “There’s a parlor in the back wing. It’s near the kitchen, so Eren will probably pass by when they’re done with the dishes.” She paused. “And it’s out of the way, so there won’t be others around.”

Armin gave a wan smile. “Sounds good.”

They turned a corner and doubled back down a smaller wing to a modest room with a loveseat and two armchairs arranged around a fireplace. As Mikasa busied herself with lighting the lamps on the end tables, Armin lowered himself onto the loveseat, shutting his eyes as the lamps sputtered to life. It was getting better with time, but flickering light still sent jolts of irritation and stress shooting into his skull. He took a deep breath.

Armin felt the cushion dip and he opened his eyes as Mikasa settled primly beside him. There was silence for a few moments. Armin looked down, twisting his fingers together on his lap.

“I’m glad you came to dinner tonight,” Mikasa said quietly. He looked up to see her gazing off into the empty fireplace. “I think everyone was glad to see you there.”

A short, dry laugh slipped from Armin’s throat. “Yeah, I could tell by all those awkward silences.”

She glanced over at him. “It was a lot livelier than it has been.” There was a brief pause. “Sasha perked up a lot. She was really talkative tonight.”

Armin shrugged, looking at the carpet. “She was probably just trying to cover the silence.”

“Armin.” He felt the cushion shift, and when he looked back up Mikasa had turned to face him. She met his eyes firmly, her jaw set. “We came here for _you._ ”

Armin felt his heart twist in his chest as the dim light wavered and cast a deep shadow over the hollows under her eyes. How had he not noticed those earlier? He dropped his gaze, ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured around the lump in his throat. He looked back up and opened his arms.

Something trembled in Mikasa’s expression and she leaned in immediately, her arms firmly encircling Armin’s ribs as her head sank down onto his shoulder. Her silken hair brushed his cheek as he clasped back at her. He’d thought he might have cried himself dry yesterday, but tears sprang to his eyes once again as he felt the slight tremor in her tense shoulders, as guilt and affection welled up in his throat.

“I missed you,” he choked thickly, the words a mumble against the worn fabric of her scarf. Her grip tightened, and he felt her chest hitch as she gave a tiny sniff.

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you earlier.”

“So you _were_ avoiding me.” Mikasa pinched lightly at the back of his shoulder.

“It wasn’t because of you,” he reassured her. “I really appreciate you looking out for me. I just…” he sighed, blinking the heat out of his eyes. “It’s just needing to be looked after at all, you know?”

“You’ve always been like that,” she muttered, sounding vaguely disgruntled. “I wish you’d just let us help.”

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m working on it.”

They were silent for a while, just holding each other. Finally he felt Mikasa lift her head a little, one arm moving away from his back for a moment, and then she pulled back. Her eyes were a little red-rimmed and slightly damp, but she looked relieved.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Armin blinked. “What for?”

Mikasa paused, then shook her head, looking ever so slightly flustered. “Nothing. Just… thanks.”

Armin felt his lips tugging into a small smile. He settled against the backrest, and quietly slipped his arm through hers. Mikasa followed suit and leaned back as well, the hint of a smile ghosting across her own lips. Their breaths were calm and quiet in the still air and the irritation had vanished from Armin’s mood. His gaze slid idly over the elaborate engravings etched into the wooden mantelpiece.

“This is such a fancy safehouse,” he remarked, voicing a thought that he’d had before, but hadn’t bothered to dwell on.

“Yeah,” Mikasa agreed from beside him, sounding ever so slightly drowsy. “Apparently it belongs to one of the Commander’s interior friends. They use it as a vacation home.”

“A friend, huh?” Armin said wryly. “I wonder what kind of blackmail the Commander has on them.”

Mikasa snorted lightly. “Careful, Levi could be lurking around any corner.”

“Oh, come on,” he nudged. “Would you really be surprised, though?”

“Nope,” she replied, without a moment’s hesitation.

As the two of them shared a small grin, they became aware of the sound of footsteps hurrying down the adjoining hallway. They looked back in time to see Eren dart past the open doorway, then reappear a moment later, leaning around the doorframe with a look of surprise.

“Hey,” he said, stepping fully into the room and crossing the floor to perch on the arm of one of the chairs. His sleeves were still rolled up to his elbows from washing dishes. “What are you guys doing in here?”

“Nothing,” Armin said at the same time Mikasa deadpanned, “Slandering superior officers.”

Eren blinked in bemusement and Armin couldn’t suppress the brief laugh that bubbled out of his throat, much to his own surprise. Both sets of eyes snapped to him. Mikasa looked subtly pleased with herself, and Eren broke into a broad grin.

“Having all the fun without me, huh?” He teased, not looking upset at all. Armin felt his cheeks warming and turned away in slight embarrassment.

“You’re the one who landed yourself on dish duty all week,” Mikasa retorted.

“Mikasa!” Eren hissed.

Armin looked back up, his brows furrowing. “You _landed_ yourself on dish duty?”

Eren looked sheepish. “I, uh… might have lost my temper with a commanding officer,” he explained, not quite meeting Armin’s gaze.

Armin sighed, half exasperated. He had a sneaking suspicion that the reason had something to do with him. On a normal day, that would probably bother him, but now he just felt a guilty sense of gratification that someone else was upset on his behalf. “You’re lucky you got off with just dishes, then,” was all he said.

“Yeah.” Eren looked relieved. His gaze lingered on Armin’s, and Armin fidgeted a little with a different kind of self-consciousness than what he’d felt during dinner. Their earlier conversation seemed… not surreal, exactly, but it left him with the strange sense that everything was different, and yet nothing was.

The three of them chatted comfortably in the dim lamplight. Armin found himself relaxed and smiling as the conversation roamed freely. When was the last time they’d been like this? He wondered as Eren and Mikasa bickered good-naturedly. Just the three of them alone together, no pressing business or emergencies to tend to. It must have been that day in the flower field… It couldn’t have been more than a couple of months ago, but that carefree afternoon in the sun felt so dreamlike. But now here they were again, together and safe, for the moment, with the luxury of smiling and the time to just enjoy each other’s company. Armin felt his breath tremble again, but he held it steady, and let their familiar voices carry him on a peaceful tide.

Their time was cut short, though. Eren was in the midst of grumbling that Sasha was a bad influence on Mikasa when the sudden sound of a throat clearing made him and Armin jump. The three of them turned to see Levi in the doorway, frowning.

“It’s lights out,” he said brusquely. “Get to bed. I can’t have you falling asleep on the job tomorrow.” He seemed to squint hard at Armin for a moment, but then he breezed out of the room and was gone as soon as he’d come.

The trio looked at each other, shifting reluctantly. But despite Armin’s enjoyment of the evening, he couldn’t stop the pressure that was squeezing in behind his temples. He lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn.

It didn’t escape Mikasa’s notice. “He’s right. You should get some sleep, too,” she agreed.

Armin paused. He couldn’t deny that he was tired. His gaze drifted up to Eren, wondering momentarily whether the offer he’d written in his note still stood.

Eren seemed to understand, and jerked his head in the direction of the door. “Yeah, we should go up.”

That feeling was back, settling firmly into the core of Armin’s ribcage. It wasn’t so bad, he decided. “Yeah… okay,” he agreed. “Thanks.”

Mikasa’s eyes were flicking between them, one eyebrow quirked slightly upward. But whatever she might have been thinking, she didn’t voice it. Instead she just stretched her legs out in front of her before standing up, tugging Armin gently with her. “Somehow,” she said, “it feels like it’s been a really long couple of days.”

“No kidding.” Eren pushed himself up off the arm of the chair and moved to extinguish the lamps before the three of them trailed out of the room and up the stairs. They paused at the top to say goodnight to Mikasa. As she slipped her arm out of Armin’s, her hand caught his briefly.

“See you tomorrow,” he promised her, giving her hand a light squeeze.

“Yeah.” She gave a faint smile, stepping back to regard him and Eren, fondness glimmering in her dark eyes. “Good night.”

“Night,” Eren said, giving her a one-armed hug before she turned to set off down the hallway. They watched until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight, and then they were alone in silence.

Eren looked down at him. “I guess we should go get your stuff,” he said.

It struck Armin as an oddly funny sentiment, considering that none of it was actually his. But he just nodded his agreement. “Right.” Their hands found each other, as if in unspoken agreement, before they started down the other wing towards Armin’s room. The silence was comfortable and reassuring.

Armin pulled his set of borrowed sleepwear from atop the dresser as Eren took the pillow from the bed. Even in the faint light from the hallway, something about this room unnerved him. It didn’t feel dangerous now, with someone else here, but even in the dark the walls seemed too blank and too pale. He was more than happy when the door clicked shut and they left it behind, hopefully for the last time. They only stopped to brush their teeth in the washroom, their shoulders bumping in the tight space, eyes catching occasionally in the mirror above the basin.

“Doesn’t this kind of remind you of when we were kids?” Eren asked, Armin’s pillow tucked under one elbow as they continued down the final stretch to his room. “When we’d help each other pack for sleepovers. We’d stuff everything into a pillowcase, or tie it up in a blanket and pretend to be those vagabonds we used to read about.”

“Yeah.” The corners of Armin’s lips twisted up a bit. “We used to pack way more than what we needed, too. ‘Just in case,’ you always said.” Eren gave a warm chuckle at the memory, and Armin continued, “Though I don’t think I have it in me to stay up talking all night this time, unfortunately.”

“Eh, that’s okay,” Eren said, pushing open the door to his room. “There’s always tomorrow night.”

He was teasing, but Armin felt warmth blossoming in his chest at the underlying promise. His gaze drifted shyly to the floor as Eren stepped away to light the single lamp on the nightstand. “Thanks again,” he murmured. “For letting me stay here.”

Eren shrugged, meeting Armin’s eyes. “It’s really not a big deal,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair.

They looked at each other for a few moments until Armin dropped his gaze to the bundle of clothes in his hands. “Um…”

“Oh. Right.” Eren blinked and flustered slightly, swiping his own change of clothes from the dresser as he turned his back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Armin replied, turning around himself. It wasn’t as if he and Eren didn’t see each other naked in the showers all the time – it was a situation he was well used to dealing with by now without much issue. But there was something inexplicably awkward about it in this moment precisely _because_ they both knew they didn’t have to pretend anymore, and weren’t sure how to go about that. It also didn’t help that Armin’s still-healing body made him feel even more self-conscious and unappealing than usual. He did his best to avoid looking at himself as he changed.

He glanced over his shoulder when he finished. Eren, already changed, was fastidiously adjusting the two pillows on the bed, his back still faithfully turned.

“Okay,” Armin announced, setting his slightly messily-folded day clothes atop the dresser beside Eren’s. Eren straightened up and turned to face him.

“You can take the outside, in case you need to get up or anything,” he said, pushing himself onto the bed and sliding towards the wall. Setting aside his awkwardness, Armin climbed in beside him.

“Are you sure you have enough space?” He murmured as they settled down on the mattress, remembering how cramped he’d seemed last night, as well as how Eren had always been prone to tossing in his sleep.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Eren replied, sounding thoroughly sure of himself. He tugged the sheets up over them both, leaving his warm hand resting against Armin’s side as it completed the motion. They lay there on their sides, facing each other, bodies close but not quite touching.

“We haven’t shared a bed like this since training camp,” Armin realized out loud, with an odd sense of wistfulness.

“Yeah,” Eren agreed, and then added, “well, if you don’t count last night and…”

Armin blinked. “Oh. Yeah, I guess technically…” He trailed off as something just now occurred to him. His brows furrowed. “Did you… stay there the whole time I was unconscious?” He asked haltingly.

Eren gazed back at him, unabashed. “I was scared,” he murmured simply. His fingers curled idly into the loose fabric of Armin’s shirt, his knuckles gently rubbing against the skin beneath.

Armin’s chest twisted with a mixture of grief and affection. Eren’s expression was soft and unguarded in the dim glow of the lamplight. Armin shifted, pressing his body close enough to Eren’s to touch. Eren’s arm immediately slipped more fully around him as they slotted together, the touch like a breath of relief. Their eyes stayed locked, their noses brushing. Armin could feel Eren’s warm breath puffing gently against his face and he inhaled it, letting it seep into his lungs, into his heart.

“I was scared, too,” he admitted in a whisper, squeezing where he’d wound his arm around Eren’s shoulder. “I’m glad you were there when I woke up.” His voice wavered a little as his mind drifted back to the disoriented panic of that moment.

“Me, too.” Eren’s palm smoothed little circles between Armin’s shoulder blades. Lulled by the gentle rhythm and enveloped in the warmth of Eren’s arms, grounded by the steady rise and fall of their chests against each other, Armin felt the familiar weight of sleep settling into his mind.

Still, he resisted. Not because he was afraid – not this time – but because there was something…

He kept his gaze locked with Eren’s as he pressed even closer. The sheets rustled softly in the space between their breaths. The half-lidded green depths of Eren’s eyes stared unwaveringly into him. Eren didn’t move away. Their lips brushed, just barely, so slightly it was easy to miss. But neither of them did. It was a question, an invitation, a confession. Armin paused. He studied Eren’s swollen pupils, his thick dark eyelashes, and waited for an answer.

He didn’t wait long. Eren’s gaze vanished beneath his eyelids and instead his lips pressed back against Armin’s, body curling even further around him. Armin felt a pleasant shudder run through him, his own eyes slipping shut as he welcomed Eren’s kiss.

It was nothing like the first time, all desperate lust and repressed emotion. There was no grating of teeth or frantic hunger. This was soft, and slow, and calm. Armin felt his lips grow damp as they pulled gently against Eren’s, felt Eren hum softly in the back of his throat, felt the brush of cool air as their lips pried apart only to overlap again, tasted the fresh tang of toothpaste. He felt familiar currents of heat pulsing down to the pit of his belly, though he had no desire to act on that right now. His body prickled with the pleasant warmth, his muscles relaxing where he hadn’t even noticed there was tension. Eren’s heart beat steady against his own chest, his body tucked firmly and comfortably around Armin. He felt so good in this moment, he wished he could drown in it.

“God, Armin,” Eren murmured hoarsely against his lips when they finally parted a short while later. “I could kiss you forever.”

Armin gave a languid smile. “I wish,” he mumbled, slitting his eyes open to see Eren gazing back at him, his eyes dark with affection. “’M gonna fall asleep on you, though.”

He felt Eren smile, now, and saw it reach his eyes. “Don’t let me keep you up, then.” He began to shift, but Armin stopped him.

“Wait. I’ll get the light.”

Eren paused and nodded, settling back down. Reluctantly, Armin extricated himself from his grasp enough to roll over, propping himself up on his elbow.

The flickering lamp was too bright for him to look at directly. He squinted off to the side, weathering the discomfort that twisted inside him. Eren’s hand rested draped over his hip. He found the knob on the lamp base, and twisted it. The flame winked out and the room plunged into darkness, and the tightness in Armin’s chest vanished.

He rolled back into Eren, nestling into the comfort of his warmth. “Good night,” he murmured against his collarbone, placing a kiss there, too, just because he could.

“Good night,” Eren replied, his fingers stroking through the roots of Armin’s hair. “I love you.”

The words sent a pleasant thrum through Armin. He gave a peaceful sigh, his mind descending towards sleep. “I love you, too.”


	24. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin begins to reintegrate.

Armin drifted awake to a soft rustling sound and a sense of loneliness. He shifted a little, his hand crawling forward instinctively, but found nothing but residual warmth under the sheets. Blinking his eyes open, he rolled over to check the room. He felt a brief jolt of shock as he was met with a view of Eren’s bare chest in the dim gray light just beginning to filter through the window, muscles flexing beneath the skin as he pulled his shirt on over his head. Armin instinctively averted his gaze before remembering that he theoretically didn’t have to do that anymore.

“Hey,” Eren greeted in a hushed voice as he tugged the hem down, the firm planes of his stomach disappearing beneath the fabric. He stepped over to the bedside and perched on the edge, leaning over Armin to gaze gently down at him. “I was just about to wake you.”

“Where are you going?” Armin murmured sleepily, settling comfortably on his back. The bed felt empty without him. Eren reached down to comb the hair out of Armin’s face with his fingers, and Armin leaned into his touch.

“I’m on patrol this morning,” Eren replied with a reluctant sigh. “Sorry I didn’t tell you last night. I completely forgot about it.”

“Mm…” Armin made a noise of discontent. “Oh, well.” He sighed. There was nothing to be done about that. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Eren gave a wry smile, his fingers stroking soothing patterns against Armin’s temple. “Stay here as long as you want, okay?”

“Mhmm…” Armin’s eyelids were still so heavy. “See you later.”

“Yeah. Sleep well.” There was a touch of amusement in Eren’s voice. A moment later his lips pressed gently against Armin’s cheek, and then, almost as an afterthought, against the corner of his mouth. Armin felt his lips pull into a small smile, and he held his eyes open to watch as Eren slipped quietly out the door.

He drifted between sleeping and waking for a while after that, dozing off but not quite falling back into a deep sleep, brought back to alertness now and again by the shadow of a bird darting across the gap in the curtains, or by the shuffling of people stirring out in the hallways, or by some figment of his own mind. Each time his consciousness faded out, his head filled with more and more shapes and impressions, not quite dreams so much as fragments of thought and sensation. They morphed and twisted behind his eyelids – segments of an imagined conversation, or a strong sense of déjà vu. But some of the abstract shapes drifting across his mind’s eye took hold, melting into a familiar image – his sickroom, blank and cold and sterile, and something sinister lurking in the stoic walls.

Armin’s eyes flicked open now, a creeping feeling of unease prickling at the back of his neck, a few beads of cold sweat on his brow. His gaze darted around the room, but everything here was fine. There was a kind of warmth in the dark wood paneling of the walls, streaked with remnant signs of knots and imperfections, the top drawer of the dresser slightly pulled open and the sleeve of Eren’s sleeping shirt poking out. Armin took a few steadying breaths into Eren’s pillow, which he was half on anyway, and decided he’d had enough sleep for now.

He left the curtains drawn, but he could tell by how much brighter the room was that it was fairly well into the morning. He took his time getting dressed, listening to the birds outside and the muffled strains of a conversation, wondering vaguely how to spend the day. He knew he shouldn’t keep shutting himself away, as much as just the thought of interaction exhausted him.

But he couldn’t dawdle in here forever, his stomach reminded him with a prominent rumble. He glanced down in mild surprise, realizing that he actually felt… _hungry._ He’d been true to his promise and eaten dinner yesterday, but only out of mechanical necessity. The food was tasteless to him, unappealing, and he only consumed as much as he needed to keep his body running. But right now, the thought of the pot of porridge waiting on the stove actually seemed appetizing. That was a good sign.

Armin stopped by the washroom and then made his way down to the kitchen. He noted wryly how instinctively he crept along the walls and paused to wait when he heard a set of voices passing through the rooms ahead. But he forged on, reaching his destination and the coveted pot of porridge filling the room with its wheaty aroma. As usual, there wasn’t too much left since everyone else had already taken their share. Armin spooned the rest of it into a bowl, scraping the remnants from the edge of the pot. Bowl in hand, he paused, torn. A big part of him wanted to retreat back to Eren’s room. But he set his jaw, and slowly lowered himself onto a stool at the small kitchen table. He couldn’t keep hiding. He knew that.

He knew that, but all the same it didn’t stop him from praying internally that nobody would come by. His ears pricked up at any creak or distant noise, even partially distracted as he was by his breakfast. He was halfway done before he knew it, noticing for the first time how smooth and creamy it was – it was clearly not made with Survey Corps rations, and it was _good._ His stomach calmed its grumblings as he ate, settling in contentment.

The sudden slam of a nearby door swinging shut jolted him back into alertness. He heard footsteps in the corridor, and hunched over his bowl. _Don’t come in here, don’t come in here,_ he willed. There was a shuffling sound, and the footsteps drew closer. He kept his eyes glued on his spoon, frozen in place just below the lip of the bowl. They would walk by, and he would pretend not to notice.

But he couldn’t pretend not to notice when the footsteps rounded the open kitchen doorway and paused. Reluctantly, he glanced up to see who it was. Sasha stood in the entrance, blinking back at him in surprise. Her bow and quiver were slung over back, and a large metal pail dangled from her hand, fleshy pink lumps visible over the rim. Then she grinned.

“Hey, Armin!” She greeted him cheerfully, resuming her path to the counter. Armin didn’t miss the way her gaze lingered on him as she turned, and he ducked back over his bowl.

“Hey,” he mumbled, poking his spoon into his porridge and wondering if it wasn’t too late to retreat after all.

“It’s good to see you up and around again,” she remarked, hoisting the pail up on the counter and rummaging around in a drawer, producing a large knife. “Morale’s been kinda low with you… y’know.” She gestured vaguely with the knife before reaching into the pail to pull out two skinned rabbits, which she set on the carving block. Then she hesitated. “Is it gonna bother you if I do this while you’re eating?”

Armin clenched his jaw, feeling his pride stinging. “No, it’s fine,” he said, the words coming out a little too stiffly to be quite casual. _Just because I was beaten doesn’t mean I’ve lost my nerve,_ he wanted to say, but he resisted. Pointless antagonism would get him nowhere, he reminded himself.

“Alright.” Sasha swung her quiver off her back and propped it on the floor against the counter, adjusted her sleeves above her stained gloves, and got to work. Armin focused on his food. He kept his head down, but he could feel the sidelong glances Sasha kept sending him. He found his own eyes drifting up now and again, watching her bloodied hands deftly dismantle the rabbits, which quickly became no more than glistening lumps of flesh. He wondered morbidly why it _didn’t_ bother him – maybe it would’ve been different if Adler had gotten around to slicing him up, too.

He swallowed thickly, quickly steering his mind away from that direction. The porridge didn’t taste quite as good anymore. He lifted another spoonful to his mouth, anyway.

“So,” Sasha began, and Armin paused, bracing himself. _Here it comes,_ he thought. “You’re feeling better, then?”

Armin gave a wry smile, sure that it wasn’t the question she really wanted to ask. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

She chuckled. “True enough.” There was silence for a few moments, the only sound that of the knife thunking against the board. “We weren’t so sure if you’d make it, at first.”

“Me neither,” he muttered.

Sasha hesitated. “Do you…” she began, and then trailed off, shaking her head. “No, never mind.”

Armin’s spoon dropped against the edge of his bowl with a clink. “Just _say_ it,” he snapped, unable to keep his exasperation in check any longer. “Just— ask me what happened, or what they did, or— or whatever it is! I’m not some glass doll, I’m not going to shatter if you look at me wrong.” His body was tense, his hands curled into fists on the tabletop, his heart beating fast in his chest. But Sasha looked scandalized, and she shook her head wildly.

“Oh my gosh, I’m not gonna ask you about that stuff!” She turned her body to face him, her bloody hands raised in placation. “That’s none of my business! Besides…” her gaze dropped to the floor. “When I was looking through their files for where they kept their prisoners, I… found some of their torture records. It was _awful._ ” Her expression darkened and her eyes drifted to the rabbit carcasses on the counter. “Not even Titans toy with their prey like that.”

Armin’s fists relaxed, his anger quickly melting into shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped,” he apologized, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Or assumed…”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Sasha gave him a wry grin. “Sorry if I came off that way.”

“I’m probably just being paranoid,” Armin mumbled, more to himself than to her. But most of the tension in the room had dissipated. He picked up his spoon again. “So… what _were_ you going to ask?”

Sasha shrugged, turning back to the counter and beginning to carve the meat into chunks. “I was just wondering if you being back on your feet means we’ll get to go back to base soon,” she said.

“Oh… I’m not sure,” Armin replied. “There are some… complications.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.” She chuckled briefly, then sighed. “It’s nice here and all, and almost like a mini-vacation since we don’t have regular drills or as many chores, but… I miss base, and the others. Weird how not having much to do can actually be more tiring, you know?”

“Trust me, I know,” Armin agreed with a thin smile. He lowered his gaze, a little guilty. “Sorry to get you stuck out here.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Sasha waved him off, smile back on her face. “It’s not all bad. I get to do way more hunting here, for one.”

“That’s lucky for you, then,” Armin said, bringing another spoonful of porridge to his lips. “You’ve always seemed to like that.”

“Yeah.” Sasha’s knife paused, her eyes going distant for a moment. “There’s something peaceful about it, almost. Getting lost in the woods – becoming a part of it, letting your gut do the thinking…” She stopped and shook herself out of it, her cheeks tinting in embarrassment. “Ah, sorry. Can’t escape the old family traditions, I guess,” she laughed, quickly going back to her carving.

“No, it’s fine,” Armin said slowly, contemplating her words. His spoon clinked down into his now-empty bowl, and he stared silently into it for a moment. “Do you… want any help?”

Sasha blinked at him in surprise, and then smiled. “Sure! I’m gonna smoke some of this for later, you can help me get that prepped.”

“Alright.” Armin stood up from the table, giving a small smile in return as he picked up his bowl. “Just let me get these dishes cleaned—”

“Arlert.”

They both jumped at the unexpected voice and snapped to face Levi, who stood in the doorway. Even Sasha hadn’t heard him approach.

“There you are,” he continued. “Once you’re done with those dishes, come with me.” His thoughts were as impenetrable as ever behind his narrowed stare.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Armin said, his back suddenly painfully rigid. He hurried his bowl and the empty porridge pot over to the basin and got to work. Sasha, aware of the icy gloom that had sunk the comfortable atmosphere, kept silent, her blade thudding mechanically against the carving board. But she did catch Armin’s eye as he turned away from the dishes now drying on the rack, and gave him a small nod.

Levi spun on his heel and trotted off at a brisk pace down the hallway. Armin followed, keeping his head down. He could only think that this had something to do with the documents – but there was no way they could’ve received a response from Erwin already. After a few twists and turns, they reached the same parlor they’d had their impromptu meeting in the other day. But there was no sign of Hanji. Levi shut the door behind them, and turned to face Armin.

The Corporal considered him for a moment, then strode past him into the room. “Help me move this furniture,” he ordered brusquely.

“Sir?” He blinked in confusion as Levi stopped by one end of the sofa.

“You’re out of shape,” Levi stated, looking back at him. “Now that you’ve recovered sufficiently, you need to train your body back up to standard. You’re still a soldier, after all.” He scowled. “I’m going to oversee your exercises, starting today. It’s too much of a risk to let you outside, so we’ll have to make do here. Help me move the furniture.”

Armin felt a sense of dread settle into the pit of his stomach. He knew Levi was right, he knew he needed this, but he couldn’t bring himself to look forward to the humiliation he knew was coming. Still, there was nothing he could do but nod and move to the opposite end of the couch. At least there was nobody else around to witness this, he thought, trying to comfort himself.

They shifted the bulky furniture back to the edges of the room, leaving a decent area of open space in the center of the carpeted floor.

“Warmup stretches,” Levi commanded sharply. “You know the drill.”

\--

Armin avoided Levi’s scrutinizing gaze as he struggled through the standard warmup routine. His limbs strained as he reached for his toes, his lungs burned and his legs tired quickly as he jogged in place. His face was hot with more than just exertion as he forced himself through the familiar exercises. He felt like a trainee again, slow and weak and desperate not to make a fool of himself. He made himself keep going, the breaks Levi gave him between rounds not a relief so much as salt in the wound.

“Alright.” Levi’s voice cut through Armin’s ragged breaths as he struggled to push himself up off the carpet. “That’s enough.”

Armin clenched his teeth. “I’ll finish the set,” he grit out, his arms shuddering beneath him as he tried to force them to hold his weight. Seventeen. Seventeen pushups. He could do more – he _would_ do more, wouldn’t let himself flag so quickly with Levi staring down his nose at him. He didn’t want pity from the man known for his refusal to accept anything less than perfection from his soldiers.

“You _are_ finished. Now get up.” Levi’s voice was as clipped and impassive as ever. Armin felt an irrational surge of anger at the lack of emotion, the lack of the disappointment and disdain he was _sure_ Levi must be feeling. But he bit his tongue, slowly pushing himself onto his knees, and then onto his feet, swaying slightly. He kept his gaze fixed on the decorative carpet, breathing heavily, refusing to allow the shameful heat to escape from behind his eyes.

“We’re done for today. How do you feel?”

Pretty awful. “Fine, sir,” Armin said stiffly. “I can keep going.”

Levi snorted. “You can barely stand up straight.”

Armin clenched his jaw. “I can keep going,” he insisted.

Levi fixed him with a measured stare. “No.”

Humiliation and anger coiled tightly in Armin’s burning chest, but before he could say anything, Levi continued.

“We didn’t risk our lives getting you out of the interior just so you could run yourself right back into the ground, Armin.”

Ah. Armin felt his lips twisting into a bitter smile. “No, but you got what you _did_ risk your lives for, so what does it matter now? I’ve served my purpose.” He drew himself up and finally met Levi’s gaze, not even sure what he was arguing for anymore.

“Have you, now?” Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Last I checked, there were still a shitload of Titans lumbering around outside the Walls. Did you have a fever dream that they were all gone?” Before Armin could reply, he continued. “You feel used. I get it, trust me.” The ghost of a wry smile drifted onto his lips, and then disappeared just as quickly. “But sometimes that’s just how it is for soldiers like us. It’s nothing personal.”

“I _know_ that,” Armin snapped, forgetting his tone for a moment. He bit his lip, looking down. He didn’t need this lecture. He already knew. But the bitterness curling in his gut just wouldn’t go away.

“Then you know that your job isn’t done yet,” Levi retorted sharply. He turned and Armin watched him move to drag the coffee table back to its original spot with ease. “But I won’t let you push yourself until you collapse again. Four-eyes would kill me, and I can only take so many of Jaeger’s tantrums.” He mumbled the last bit, almost inaudibly. Then he straightened up and looked over his shoulder to fix Armin with his steely gaze. “Meet me here again tomorrow, eight a.m. sharp. That’s an order.” Without waiting for a response, he strode over to the sofa. “You can go.”

Armin looked down at the carpet, the woven patterns swirling out from beneath his feet. His eyes slipped shut for a moment, and he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes, and set his jaw.

Levi’s gaze locked with his, unsurprised, when Armin appeared at the other end of the sofa. “Lift on three,” he said. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”


	25. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin share some pre-dawn reflections and reassurances.

_Armin is running, his entire body searing in pain. He can’t see where he’s going because fire seems to consume the world, burning his eyes – does he even have eyes? He can’t tell. All he knows is the blinding brightness stabbing into his mind, refusing to give him room to think or breathe. He just runs, hands outstretched and scrabbling against cold unseen surfaces to find his way.  
_

_His numb fingers find a corner. Left, whispers something in his ear, and he obeys, not knowing why, only that something inside him seems to accept it. He turns abruptly, his bare feet nearly slipping, but he grabs at the Wall – is that what it is? – and keeps going. He can feel blood on his hands. His body is screaming at him to stop. To let it rest. But—_

_But behind him he can hear the drumbeats, metallic and thunderous, and each strike sends an earthquake of pain shuddering through his body, eclipsing his mind in its deafening echoes._

_It’s coming for him._

_He knows this instinctively. Keep going, whispers the voice. Straight. Keep going._

_But his legs are heavy. Like he’s struggling to run through waist-deep water. He claws at the Wall, desperate for any kind of groove or purchase to pull himself along. But it’s smooth as bone and all he feels is new blood welling up from his nails. The cacophony is upon him now, a marching military beat, and he tries to scream for it to stop, his head is going to split apart—_

_But the drumbeats don’t care. They just get louder. And there are hands on him, in his hair and around his throat and clawing into him, and he can’t breathe and he can’t move, his arms are twisted backwards and through the ceaseless scream of ringing metal he can hear voices cackling that he is alone, and he can see hazy shapes now, like afterimages, and they leer with all teeth. But somewhere else another voice whispers insistently, right left down left keep going keep going but he can’t go, he just wants it to stop, the noise and the light and the pain and the cold, and something is shaking him, shaking him and calling and desperate and—_

“…min! Armin!”

Armin snapped awake with a sharp gasp, his eyes darting frantically around as his body jolted out of a cruelly rigid chair and onto a soft mattress. There were no blinding lights or deafening metallic roars or indistinct figures looming above him with stark, predatory grins. There was only darkness and warmth and a hand gripping his shoulder and Eren’s voice calling his name. He was drenched in a cold sweat, matting his hair to his brow, making his shirt stick to his chest. His arms flung out, to grasp or to hurt or do _anything,_ and he realized distantly that he was trembling violently.

“Armin, hey, look at me,” Eren was urging, shaking at his shoulder. Armin’s eyes locked with his and he stopped moving at the sight of the familiar green gaze, wide-eyed with concern. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You were having a nightmare.”

Armin exhaled shakily, his disorderly thoughts piecing back together, his frenzied heartbeat steadying a little. There was dampness around his eyes that wasn’t sweat. The details of the dream were already gone but its chill still gripped at his core. With a weary groan he rolled forward, closing the already-short distance between him and Eren on the mattress. Arms wound around him immediately as he buried his face in Eren’s chest, taking deep, shuddering breaths and letting the scent soothe him.

“It’s just like being kids again,” he mumbled weakly after he’d composed himself, voice muffled in the fabric of Eren’s shirt. He tried to keep his tone light, but it came out sounding bitter.

“Hm.” Eren huffed a brief, humorless laugh, tucking his face against Armin’s hair. “Except I was the one clinging to you back then.” His warm palm stroked firm, soothing circles between Armin’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah…” The corners of Armin’s lips tugged downward as his mind wandered back to those nights. Eren’s nightmares had been at their worst when they worked the fields after the fall of Maria. It had gotten so bad that they’d had to sleep apart from the other refugees, who quickly ran out of patience with being woken by his screaming and thrashing on a near-nightly basis. Armin would never forget the bone-deep chills he felt every time he was jolted awake by those desperate, ragged cries, the crushing powerlessness as he and Mikasa pressed Eren between them, a shuddering, inconsolable mess, clutching at him, at each other, until he finally calmed down enough for exhaustion to take him to sleep again.

It wasn’t quite as bad after they started training. In addition to the years passed, Armin guessed it was probably also due to the fact that Eren was actively working towards his goals. He had somewhere to spill the fury that had been boiling within him ever since his mother’s death. Armin couldn’t stand seeing such hatred cloud those eyes that had once been so bright with warmth and wonder, seeing them closed and almost _guarded_ against him in a way they’d never been before… but at least the nightmares weren’t as bad anymore. And when they did happen, when the barracks stirred in the dead hours of the morning with exhausted groans and irritable snapping of boys disturbed from their slumber because Jaeger was at it again, Armin was there. Armin was there to take him in his arms and stroke his hair and whisper that he’s here, it’s okay, he’s here, while Eren curled around him and sobbed violently into his shirt, and Armin fought back tears of his own, and often lost.

“Do you still have those nightmares?” He asked Eren now, if only to have words to distract himself with.

He felt Eren’s shoulder roll up in a half shrug. “Sometimes,” he replied offhandedly, and sighed. “It sucks without you there.”

“I’m sorry…”

Eren nuzzled into his hair. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry anyway.”

Armin knew just how much it sucked. He never used to have any remarkably bad nightmares – nothing that could compare with what Eren went through, anyway. Not until after Trost, that is. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times Connie or Jean had shaken him awake after he’d just watched Eren die, bloody and battered, eyes wide hand outstretched their dream on his lips for the millionth time but it never seemed to diminish the sheer _horror_ of the moment, the wall of disbelief and denial and truth and self-hatred that broadsided him every single time, knocking the wind and the strength out of him and leaving him with the horrible, irrational terror that it was true and Eren was _gone._ And he’d scramble to reach for Eren where he should be right beside him as always but there would be nothing but empty sheets because Eren was locked away underground like some animal instead of there where Armin _needed_ him, needed him like he’d never needed anything before, but there was nothing he could do except curl in on himself and stifle his sobs and _ache._

But Eren was here now, he was _here_ , despite the cruel whispers of Armin’s frigid, empty dreams. His arms were warm and tight, his breath ruffled through Armin’s hair, and Armin could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

There was an unusual stiffness in him though. A kind of tension in his grip that made Armin think his mind was wandering somewhere unpleasant.

“What’s the matter?” Armin murmured.

“Huh? Nothing.” Eren shook his head a little, but Armin gave his side a light pinch.

“I can tell, you know.”

“No, I just…” Eren hesitated for a long moment. “It’s just… you were talking. In your sleep.” His tone was halting, and another long silence stretched between them. Armin could see where this was going, but he waited for Eren to continue. Just in case he was wrong.

“It… sounded like begging. And crying.” Eren’s voice cracked a little, but he pushed on. “And, stuff like ‘left right left’ or something.” He paused to take a breath. “It was about what happened, wasn’t it,” he said quietly.

Armin felt tears squeezing back up into his eyes, and he tried to blink them away. He nodded silently against Eren’s chest.

Eren gave a long, shaky sigh. His restless fingers curled into the back of Armin’s shirt, gripping and releasing and gripping again. “Have you… been having a lot of those nightmares?”

Armin swallowed, keeping his breathing even. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice only a little thick. It was part of the reason he’d had such an aversion to sleep in the days following his return to consciousness. “Not since I moved in here, though. So I hoped maybe… But I guess I’ve just been too tired to dream the past few days.” Even his morning training with Levi was enough to thoroughly exhaust him, despite the fact that they were still just working through simple exercises. But his body was beginning to readjust to the exertion. In that sense, he supposed the return of his nightmares was a good sign, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to be grateful.

“I’m so sorry,” Eren breathed.

Armin shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault.”

“But maybe I could’ve… This didn’t have to happen if I’d just…”

“Eren, stop.” Armin spoke firmly, giving him a squeeze for emphasis. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I know that, I know. But when I think about all that time we wasted, and then all that time not… _knowing_ if I’d ever even see you alive again… imagining what they were doing to you—” Eren paused to take a shuddering breath. “I just… I don’t know. I should’ve stuck around that day. I wish I had.”

“You were just following orders,” Armin said. But he felt a chill up his spine as the words left his mouth.

“What is it?” Eren seemed to notice the slight change in the tension of Armin’s shoulders.

Armin swallowed thickly. He was silent for a while. Eren waited, his hand soothing against Armin’s back. Armin still didn’t want to think about it. But… he also didn’t want it banging incessantly around the cage of his head anymore.

“It’s… When I was… down there,” he finally began, speaking slowly and trying not to let his voice waver. “They… _Adler._ Kept telling me… really awful things.” He paused to draw in a breath. “Like… that I wasn’t worth the effort it would take to save me. That you would all just leave me there to rot.”

“Armin—” Eren began, his grip tightening, but Armin cut him off.

“I kept _seeing_ things, Eren,” he whispered. “I was so _tired_ , they wouldn’t let me sleep, I didn’t… I couldn’t even tell what was real anymore, or where I even was anymore. I saw… I saw you.”

He heard Eren’s breath catch, felt him go still.

“I knew it wasn’t… it _couldn’t_ be real, not with… not with the things it was saying, I knew you didn’t think those things about me but I… it _looked_ like you, it had your face, your _voice_ …”

“What did it say.” Eren’s voice was low and dangerous.

“That you’d left me,” Armin whispered. There was a tremor in his voice and dampness in his eyes. “That you were ordered to let me die, and you did.”

Eren moved suddenly, shifting down on the mattress until he was eye to eye with Armin. “That’s _bullshit,”_ he growled, his hand sliding around the back of Armin’s neck as he pressed their foreheads together. “I wouldn’t— I _couldn’t_ — I would _die_ before I left you like that—”

Armin grimaced. “Please don’t,” he muttered, Eren’s desperate, bloody face flashing once again in his mind’s eye. It twisted into his chest like a knife.

“ _No,_ ” Eren insisted, something urgent in his voice. “Armin. You’re not someone I can afford to lose.”

Armin’s heart swelled with a selfish joy at the same time his gut knotted in terror. The rational part of his mind scolded that this was a dangerous and impractical way of thinking, and he bit back the argument that rose to his lips. He knew that, but…

“Neither are you,” he admitted in a whisper, the weight of all that implied settling firmly in his chest. Still, he struggled to rationalize, because reality refused to leave him be. “But this is war, Eren, we… we can’t bet on how long our luck will hold…”

“I don’t _care._ ” Eren squeezed his eyes shut, their noses pressed together and his fingers tight in the roots of Armin’s hair. “I don’t care.”

Armin breathed out, letting the words soothe over him. For just a little while, he thought, maybe it was okay to be a little bit selfish. His palm slipped over the curve of Eren’s face, thumb gently grazing along his cheekbone. Maybe it was okay not to feel bad about the way Eren’s vow made a reassuring warmth bloom inside him.

Green eyes slipped open again, bright even in the darkness. “We’re gonna make it through this,” Eren promised, his breath warm against Armin’s lips. “Together.”

Armin nodded. He wanted so desperately to believe those words. And now, here in the darkness, tangled in Eren’s firm grasp, he felt like he could. “Together,” he repeated softly. He was calm now. His heartbeat was slow and steady. He was okay. He was alive and Eren was here and this was _real._ Nothing Adler could do or say to him could ever hope to outdo what he’d gone through when he’d let Eren die. These nightmares were nothing, compared to that one. But Eren was _here._

He was okay.

“Hopefully we’ll get the Commander’s orders soon,” Armin murmured into the space between their lips. “We’ll have to investigate whatever it is that’s marked on that map. We’ll find out what they’ve been hiding.” He set his jaw. “And we’ll get farther outside the Walls than we’ve ever been before.”

Eren’s lips tugged upwards, a gleam in his eyes. “Those bastards don’t stand a chance. The Titans _or_ the MPs.” His fingers tugged gently through Armin’s hair. “Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?”

Armin felt his cheeks warming. “That’s my line,” he muttered, rolling Eren onto his back and pressing their lips together.

It only lasted for a moment, though, before they both pulled back, spluttering.

“Your hair is getting long,” Eren laughed, reaching up to tug the golden strands away from his mouth.

“Sorry,” Armin said sheepishly. “I’ll have to cut it soon.”

“If you want.” Eren shrugged. “You could always tie it back, too.” His hands tucked Armin’s hair behind his ear, tugging it back from his face and toying loosely with it.

“You like it, huh.”

“I always like how you look.” Eren responded with a cheeky grin, and Armin rolled his eyes.

“Who knew you were such a flatterer?” But a small smile tugged at the corners of his own lips nonetheless.

“It’s not flattery. I mean it, you know.”

Armin gazed down at him, green eyes fixed back on his own with a steady calmness, a softness reserved only for him. “Yeah. I know,” he murmured. He let Eren pull him back down for another kiss, long and lingering, as the faint pale traces of dawn began to seep through the curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these eremin scenes are taking place at night and/or in bed and I don't know how that happened... I hope it's not getting too stale, haha.
> 
> I'm still not good at author's notes but I feel like I should say something because this chapter marks the 100,000 word milestone... holy shit. This fic has somehow gotten longer than probably everything else I've ever written in my life combined, and I don't know how I'm managing that. Thank you so, so much to everyone who's been keeping up with this! Your comments and love have done so much to keep me motivated, and to keep me stubbornly pushing my way through this monster project even when I'm not motivated. It really means a lot to me that people are enjoying this! Thank you once again, and I hope you have a great day, or night, or whatever time it is when you happen to read this. <3


	26. Harbinger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa lends Armin a hand, and they spend some time together.

“Good.” Levi nodded curtly as Armin caught his breath on the floor. He’d seemed a little distracted this morning, and Armin wondered if it was because they still hadn’t received any word from Erwin. “We’re done for today. Tomorrow we’ll bring you back to the full set.”

“Yes, sir,” Armin huffed, pushing himself to his feet. He was recovering his breath much quicker, now. And as he helped Levi move the furniture back to its proper spot in the room, he wasn’t left nearly as winded.

“You’re moving at a steady pace,” Levi said. “We can’t do gear drills here without risking drawing attention to ourselves, but if you keep this up, you should be back up to standard before long.”

Armin ducked his head. “Yes, sir… thank you.”

Levi snorted. “For what? Doing my job?” Even so, there was a slight glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Get lost. And don’t forget that you’re back on the chore rotation.”

“Of course.” Armin saluted as Levi stalked out of the room. He was on dinner prep tonight. He was glad to have something else to do with his time, to feel like he was active and contributing something again… though he still had the whole day to fill until then.

He gave a brief sigh, and as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes he remembered his previous conversation with Eren. He really did need to cut his hair. Looks aside, he couldn’t have it constantly getting in the way.

So he set off in search of a knife, rifling through the desk drawers in the sitting room, finding nothing but a few books and knick-knacks. He was amazed by how many extraneous _things_ there were lying about in this house – ornamental bird carvings on the desks, small decorative boxes containing nothing but collections of polished antique coins or assortments of fancy pen nibs. Erwin’s friend must be quite wealthy indeed, Armin thought, wondering how many new military supplies could be bought with all these luxuries.

He was poking around in a closet in the back hallway when he heard a door open, and he looked over to see Mikasa coming in from the yard.

“Hey,” she greeted with a small smile.

“Hey.” Armin returned it, his eyes quickly taking in her dark tanktop and uniform pants, the beads of sweat on her brow and, most notably, the absence of her characteristic scarf. “Laps?”

“Yeah.” Mikasa nodded briefly, closing the distance between them with a few strides to peer into the closet with him. “You?”

“Looking for a utility knife. I wanna cut my hair, but this house seems to be all form and no function.” He gave a wry smile and a pointed glance towards the spare embroidered curtains filling the closet. “Could I borrow yours?”

“Of course.” Mikasa jerked her head in the direction of the hallway. Armin shut the closet door and they started off, side by side. “You didn’t check the kitchen?”

“That would’ve been my last resort. Levi might kill me if he caught me using the cooking knives on my hair.”

“Fair.” She gave a brief chuckle. “How was he during your drills today?”

“Strict, as always.”

Mikasa cast him a glance. “But he’s not pushing you too hard, is he?”

“No.” Armin sighed as they started up the stairs, watching the flex in Mikasa’s firm bicep as she gripped the banister. “Part of me almost wishes he would, though. I know—” he continued quickly, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to argue. “I know it wouldn’t be good for me, and it’s not something I can rush. I just… want to feel like I’m back on the playing field, you know?”

“You never left it,” she assured him, her palm brushing over his shoulder.

Armin shrugged. He knew what she meant, but it still didn’t change the fact that he was currently useless if it came to combat. Nonetheless, he appreciated the sentiment and her effort to comfort him. “Thanks,” he said, and gave her a small smile.

He followed her through the door to her room and paused, blinking. This one was more spacious than his or Eren’s, and had two narrow beds, one against either wall. Half the room was impeccably organized, and the other half looked like a wild stampede had run through it – clothes everywhere, drawers askew, and a small pile of… were those sticks on the foot of the bed?

“Sasha’s taking advantage of the fact that we’re not getting room inspections,” Mikasa explained, a hint of amusement coloring her tone. “That, and she’s got way too much pent-up energy.”

“Yeah, she mentioned.” Armin squinted at the pile on the bed. On closer inspection, he could see rough shapes hacked into some of the thick branch segments. Most of them were just large, chunky angles, but a couple of them were more distinct. On one he could make out a hulking shape leading up to a round pair of ears, and then narrowing into what looked like a blunt snout…

“I never knew Sasha whittled,” he said, impressed.

“She’s good at it,” Mikasa commented offhandedly, picking up her scarf from where it was folded neatly over the back of a chair and draping it over her shoulders. “She does it in the barracks sometimes. Used to be kind of shy about it.”

“Huh.” Armin remembered how deftly Sasha handled a knife, and figured he shouldn’t be surprised.

Speaking of knives, Mikasa plucked her own from atop the dresser, bouncing the handle loosely in her palm. “You want to cut your hair, right?” She asked. “Want me to do it? It would be easier than trying to do the back by yourself.”

Armin paused, considering her dark, cool gaze. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he agreed. “Sure.”

Mikasa patted the back of the wooden chair and he complied, settling into it. “Back to the usual length?” She asked, shaking the folds out of a small towel from atop the dresser before tucking it around his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Armin leaned back against the slightly reclined chair. Mikasa’s cool fingers combed through his hair a few times, gentle but self-assured. “Thanks.”

She hmmed in response. As she smoothed out Armin’s hair, his eyes traced idly around the room, bright and warm in the morning sunlight through the large window. Mikasa’s side of the room was immaculate – almost disturbingly so. There wasn’t a wrinkle in the fastidiously-made bed, not a stray fiber or hair to be seen on any of the surfaces. Even the closed drawers on the nightstand were perfectly aligned. Armin felt his brows tug inward.

“Have you been okay?” He asked, and felt her hands pause for the briefest of seconds.

“Fine,” she said casually. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just…” he shrugged a little. “I’ve been pretty out of it lately, and Eren… well, you know how he gets.” He smiled wryly and heard Mikasa give a brief huff of dry laughter behind him. “But we’ve been here, for, what, almost three weeks now? And you’ve been just as cooped up as the rest of us. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

There was silence for a few moments. Armin felt a tug on his scalp, heard a slicing sound, felt some weight fall away and air touch the back of his neck.

“I’ve been keeping myself busy,” she replied. Another lock of hair fell away. “Keeping up my exercise, helping out with patrols… Hunting with Sasha when I don’t have other chores.” Her hands paused briefly and Armin imagined her shrugging.

“That’s good. But… that’s not what I asked,” he prodded gently. He knew those evasion tactics all too well.

Mikasa sighed, and Armin could hear her reluctance in it. “Well, you know how much of a mess things are right now,” she said. “You’re still recovering. Eren is… Eren. Sasha’s all over the place with cabin fever.” Her cool fingers brushed slightly against the back of Armin’s neck as she took another lock of hair. “It’s… only natural for everyone to be preoccupied.”

Armin frowned, instinctively trying to look back over his shoulder. But Mikasa placed a hand on his head to stop him. “Don’t move.”

“Sorry.” He stilled. “Sorry…”

“It isn’t your fault,” she said calmly. She paused and the knife sliced through his hair again. “I think… the worst part is that we still don’t know what we’re going to do next,” she admitted quietly.

“I know what you mean.” Armin grimaced. “Not knowing what to work towards, not feeling like you’re getting anywhere… it’s awful. But…” He paused for a moment, mulling over his next words. Mikasa combed her fingers through his hair again, brushing out any stray clippings, before shifting around to the front of the chair. Armin looked up at her, and continued. “But I know what it’s like to start shutting down because of it, and it’s not worth it. Things are bound to get crazy again before long, so we might as well take advantage of the times when we actually have room to breathe. So… let me know if you ever get lonely, okay? I’m here for you. We both are.”

Mikasa smiled serenely down at him. “Close your eyes.”

Armin obeyed. He felt her fingers brush his forehead as she tugged his bangs away from his face, felt the slight tickle of the hair as it fell away. The room was silent and peaceful.

“Okay. You’re done.”

Armin opened his eyes as Mikasa swiped the pad of her thumb over his nose to get rid of a few golden clippings that had caught there. He grinned back up at her. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you want to thank me before looking in the mirror?” She teased.

“I’m not worried.”

She carefully lifted the towel off his shoulders, and Armin hurried to the closet down the hall for the broom and dustpan, so they could sweep up what had made it to the floor. As they shook the clippings out the window, a gentle breeze ruffled through his hair. Only a few inches had come off it, but he was amazed at how much lighter he felt. The breath of air felt pleasant on his neck. He set the dustpan on the floor and rested his elbows on the windowsill, Mikasa doing the same beside him.

“Are you busy today?” Armin asked, looking out at the thick wall of trees.

Mikasa shook her head. “Not until later,” she said. “I’m on the afternoon patrol shift. You?”

“Just dinner prep.”

There was silence for a few moments, their shoulders brushing slightly in the window frame.

“You know,” Mikasa said after a moment. “As much as I miss the activity of base, it is kind of nice to get a break. Plus…” she paused, and Armin glanced over in time to catch a brief smile. “This is probably the only chance we’ll get to live in such a nice house.”

“Hmm… I dunno,” he said. He looked down at his hands, curled loosely together in the air. “After the war… we’ll be able to build any kinds of houses we want.”

“…You’re right,” she agreed, her voice warm. “Though I don’t think any of us are quite the mansion type.”

“Maybe not.” Armin cast her a playful look. “But the _option_ will be there. Isn’t that the beauty of it?”

Mikasa smiled back at him. “I bet you’ll fill your place with even more junk than this place has.”

Armin huffed indignantly. “Excuse me,” he retorted in mock offense. “Those will be _specimens.”_

“Oh, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Hanji.”

Armin’s smile faded and he could tell by the way her teeth clicked shut immediately that she had realized her misstep. His gaze swung down, to the distant grass below them rustling in the faint breeze.

“Have you… talked to them, recently?” Mikasa ventured. Armin shook his head.

“No,” he said with a sigh, trying to swallow the discomfort welling up in his chest even at the mention of the name. “I’ve only seen them at meals, and, well… you know.” He shrugged, and Mikasa nodded. The tension was beginning to ebb away now since Armin had rejoined the group… for the most part. The distinct awkwardness between him and Hanji was evident in the Squad Leader’s frantic babbling to whoever happened to be next to them – usually Levi – and their refusal to meet Armin’s gaze. Not that Armin had been making much of an effort to do so in the first place.

“You’re still upset,” Mikasa remarked.

Armin smiled thinly. “It’s hard not to be,” he said. “But it’s not like I don’t understand why they did what they did.”

Her gaze darkened. “Does it matter?”

He paused, glancing at her. “Well, I mean— Yeah, I think so. There was a legitimate reason for withholding the information.” He felt a bubble of nausea in his gut as he continued. “And I would never have thought to check my book if I hadn’t known about any stolen documents…”

“But you still got hurt,” Mikasa interrupted grimly.

“That’s the risk we take in war.” Armin pressed his lips together. “Besides, what can I do? Hanji’s still my superior, and it’s not like I can just… ask to be transferred, or anything. The Survey Corps is too small for that, and…” he glanced at her. “And I wouldn’t, anyway. I’ll have to work with them again sooner or later.”

Mikasa frowned, dissatisfied. “Maybe,” she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “But you don’t have to work with them _yet._ ”

Armin couldn’t help cracking a small smile at the almost petulant stubbornness in her tone. “Right. I almost forgot how good you are at holding grudges,” he said.

Mikasa just gave a nonchalant shrug. The mood lightened.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be here, though?” She wondered aloud, gazing out at the forest.

“I’m not sure. I guess it’ll depend on what the Commander says.” He sighed. “If it’s taken this long for him to reply, my guess is that it’s still too risky to go back to base. If the Military Police is that desperate… either I’ll have to stay in hiding, or we’ll have to turn the situation around on them.”

“That’s not even a question,” Mikasa said firmly.

He cast her a brief smile. “The Survey Corps aren’t much for inaction. We’ll definitely be making a move. It’s just a matter of how much planning it will take.” He paused for a moment, watching Sasha stroll through the backyard below them on her patrol route. “I think,” he said, lowering his voice so it wouldn’t carry beyond Mikasa, “we’ll most likely be investigating Jalrut first.”

She nodded. “That town was mentioned in one of the documents, right?” She asked, equally quietly.

“Right.” His eyes drifted back out to the trees. “We’ll need to confirm whether our theories are even possible before taking any more drastic measures…” Armin trailed off as he noticed Mikasa tense beside him. “What is it?”

“Sasha noticed something,” she replied. He followed her gaze and saw that Sasha had indeed frozen, her gaze fixed in the direction of the forest. “Armin, get out of sight—” She threw her arm across his chest, pushing him back and away from the window frame. He ducked to the side, against the wall beside the window instead, watching Mikasa’s alert expression.

“What’s she doing?” Armin hissed, his heart picking up speed. It was probably nothing, he told himself. Any number of creatures could be making noise in the woods. But what if, after all this time, they really had been found?

“She’s heading for the trees,” Mikasa murmured. “She’s not using the warning signal, though.” She paused, eyes narrowed in focus, and for a few moments there was silence. The breeze rustled gently through Mikasa’s hair, exposing the thin scar along her cheekbone. “She’s coming back,” she said suddenly. “She’s got something.”

Armin peeked around the window frame down into the backyard. Sure enough, Sasha was hurrying across the grass, her hands tucked close to her stomach. It was hard to tell from this angle, but he thought her expression was one of alarm.

“Sasha,” Mikasa called down. Her clear voice cut sharp through the air, and Sasha’s head snapped up immediately. “What is it?”

“Mikasa! Go find the Corporal!” Sasha called back, not slowing her pace. “There’s a bird, it’s pretty injured – but it’s got a message!”

Mikasa’s gaze snapped to Armin’s for a brief moment. “We’ll be right there!” She replied, shutting the window in a swift motion and turning. Armin hurried out of the room after her, his mind racing. For the first time in weeks, he felt a sense of urgency creeping up on him.


	27. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The safehouse has been compromised. 
> 
> Additional chapter warnings: Minor descriptions of violence, blood, and death.

Levi’s lips pressed together in a thin, pale line as he held the unrolled message before him. “Blaus,” he said stiffly, and Sasha snapped to attention. “Tell me about the bird’s injuries.”

“Yes, sir!” She stood straight-backed in her place by the parlor doorway, where she’d slipped in after quickly patching the bird up. “She has a torn wing, there’s a lot of damage to the feathers and the muscle. It’s amazing she managed to make it here.” Her face was grim. “There were some bullet fragments embedded in the wound, sir.”

Levi gave a heavy sigh, though he didn’t look even slightly surprised. “That’s not the kind of bird a hunter would want,” he said. He turned his gaze to Armin and Mikasa, who stood rigidly awaiting instruction. “Well, kids, this is our cue. Go grab your things. Ackerman, Blaus, you know the plan.”

“Yes, sir!” The two saluted as Levi strode past them out of the room and disappeared. Sasha turned to Mikasa.

“I’ll get our stuff. You go with Armin,” she said, already jogging backwards toward the door. Mikasa nodded.

“Let’s go,” she said, taking Armin by the elbow and following.

They hurried down the hall after Sasha, and Armin did his best to keep his heart beating at a normal pace. There was no guarantee, but they had to operate on the assumption that the messenger bird had been tracked… or in the worst-case scenario, intercepted. “What’s the plan?” He asked Mikasa as they rushed up the stairs.

“We get out of here,” she replied briskly. Sasha darted down one hallway, Armin and Mikasa down the other. “Eren’s room?”

“Yeah.” There was no time to feel embarrassed as they rushed into the small room. Armin hurried to grab his few changes of clothes and his book, and hesitated briefly as Mikasa pulled an empty cloth bag from the floor next to the dresser.

“Eren’s on patrol in the woods,” he remembered. Mikasa paused as she held the bag out to him, meeting his gaze as a shared look of concern passed between them.

“…We’ll get his stuff, too,” she said stiffly. Armin nodded, dumping his things unceremoniously in the bag before hurrying to grab Eren’s as well. Mikasa craned her neck, trying fruitlessly to see into the wall of trees outside the window.

When they reached the kitchen door, Levi was already there in his maneuver gear, and Sasha with her bow and quiver. They both wore plain gray cloaks, and Levi tossed one to Armin and Mikasa, as well. Then he handed them each a holster and a loaded pistol. “Precautionary measures,” he explained. Glancing at each other, they strapped on the holsters and swung the cloaks over their shoulders.

“What about—” Armin began, at the same time a loud _crack_ echoed from the distance. He jumped, and everyone else snapped toward the window. Off above the distant treetops rose a plume of black smoke. Levi cursed under his breath.

“Eren,” Mikasa said, her voice colored with alarm, her body tense. “He’s—”

“He knows the plan,” Levi said curtly, yanking his hood up. “Let’s move!”

The rest of them pulled up their own hoods and followed him out the door to the small stables. One of the other soldiers – Ella Rook, Armin’s memory supplied – already had three horses saddled up and waiting outside, and was frantically bridling a fourth. Armin looked towards the forest, his heart pounding in earnest now. The last wisps of the signal flare still lingered in the pale sky, and now, faintly, he could hear the sound of distant yelling. They really had been found – and someone was out there, facing whoever else stood beneath the fading smoke. Nausea roiled in his gut. He glanced at Mikasa and found her staring out in the same direction, her face pale.

“Saddle up,” Levi ordered. Seeing Armin and Mikasa’s hesitation, he snapped, “We don’t have time to waste! Anyone who’s not here will meet us at the rendezvous point.”

For a moment Mikasa’s eyes darted desperately from Armin to the forest, and back again. Then she grit her teeth, and swung up onto a horse. A moment later, Armin felt himself hauled swiftly up behind her. He grabbed instinctively at her sturdy waist to keep himself from toppling off the other side. “You’re with me,” she told him, her voice clipped. “Hold on.” They both flinched as another crack rang through the air. A gunshot.

“Move out!” Levi commanded from his own horse, and charged. Sasha, Mikasa, and Rook followed. Instead of heading for the main road, they turned down a narrower trail cleared through the forest, sheltered by the leafy boughs stretching lazily overhead.

This was not a good formation, Armin thought distantly through everything swirling through his mind. Forced into a single-file line, only Levi and Sasha in maneuver gear... if the people coming after them were armed with the anti-personnel gear, they’d be in a lot of trouble. It was banking on a lot that the wooded trail would be obscure enough to keep them safe. Although… if the MPs were split up, and approaching the forest from all sides… it was possible that the smoke signal would draw them. The thought caused Armin’s heart to drop to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t breathe, so focused on straining his ears through the cacophony of hoofbeats, listening for anything – the telltale thunderclap of Eren’s transformation, the furious bellow of his roar. But nothing came. Not even another gunshot. Armin prayed that it was a good sign.

Mikasa stiffened suddenly, and Armin saw her hand fly to her holster. Then he heard it – the strain of voices through the trees, the rustle of leaves as something rushed by. And then, bursting out of the surrounding forest came three figures, swinging from grapples, shotguns drawn. Armin scrambled for his own pistol, but the figures were already bearing down on them, fingers stretching towards their triggers—

_BAM!_

Armin jolted, the breath going out of him as the noise sent his head into a dizzying spiral. But the attacker closest to them lurched, his limbs dangling lifelessly as his head snapped back. A split second later, an arrow lodged itself deep in the second figure’s chest. She slammed back against a tree trunk, spluttering blood and wheezing for breath, her eyes bulging. For the barest of seconds, her gaze locked with Armin’s, and then she was sliding down.

That left one. As the man’s finger squeezed around the trigger, a boot collided with his wrist, forcing it up. Another huge _bang!_ resounded through the air as the shotgun fired harmlessly upwards, the bullet whizzing off somewhere through the leaves. Not a moment later, a blade sliced clean through his throat and he dropped. Levi swooped a graceful arc back around, and landed neatly back on his horse. “Keep moving!” He barked, as Mikasa lowered her gun and Sasha slung her bow back over her shoulder.

It was over so lightning-fast, Armin’s head was still reeling from the sound of Mikasa’s gunshot. But as the horses thundered past the scene, he caught sight of the woman, slumped in a bloody mess on the ground against the base of the tree where she had fallen. Her pallid face was twisted into a vicious snarl as she struggled to lift her arm.

“Mikasa!” Armin cried instinctively, twisting around on the horse to try and level his pistol at the woman. Mikasa whipped around, gun at the ready, and saw her – but they were both too late. A _crack_ echoed off the trees… and a plume of blue smoke shot straight up into the air, through the leafy ceiling and into the sky beyond.

Mikasa swore, and ahead of them, Armin could faintly hear Levi doing the same.

“Speed up!” The Corporal called back to them, spurring his horse on.

“But the horses can’t move so fast on this terrain!” Sasha objected. “If one of them trips—”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Levi replied grimly. “We have to get off this trail before their reinforcements catch up!”

He was right – their assailants had a distinct mobility advantage with their gear in this environment. With half the Survey Corps party missing, there was only so much they’d be able to do if they were surrounded. Armin gripped at Mikasa’s waist as their horse accelerated. Where _was_ the rest of their party? He wondered, fear clutching his chest. There was no telling how many MPs had come to raid them. What if someone had been caught off-guard…?

He pressed his lips together, forcing himself to look ahead, watching over Mikasa’s shoulder as the trees flew past. They had planned for this eventuality, he reminded himself firmly. All he could do was trust in their ability to follow it through. And Eren, in particular, had never been easily subdued.

All the same, his heart raced in time to the thundering hoofbeats.

\--

“I’m beat,” Sasha groaned, sliding bonelessly down from her horse, which gave a rather wheezy-sounding snort. “Me too, boy.” She gave it a pat on its sweaty flank, and the two of them staggered over to a nearby stream, and promptly dunked their heads in.

“Ten minutes,” Levi called, dismounting and looking around restlessly. “Then we’re back on the road.”

Mikasa swung lightly off her horse and Armin followed more stiffly, his joints sore after the long day in the saddle. Stretching painfully and taking a sip from his waterskin, he looked uneasily around the rapidly-darkening clearing. There hadn’t been any more direct encounters with the attackers after their run-in with the small group in the woods. But they’d heard the occasional shouts of more in hot pursuit, gaining quickly once they found the trail. When they’d finally broken clear of the forest, they’d manage to outdistance their assailants in a huge meadow. They weren’t on Survey Corps horses, which would be much too conspicuous, but they still had the advantage on open ground. It seemed like they’d managed to shake the MPs for now, and they hadn’t heard or seen anything else after that. But still, they hadn’t stopped riding all day, taking circuitous paths, following hunting trails, and wading up shallow streams to make sure they’d be harder to track.

Armin couldn’t help but be on edge, though. The attack was a jarring reminder of how physically incapable he still was. If he’d been fit enough to use gear, they would’ve had much better mobility, and wouldn’t have needed to rely so much on the horses. If their pursuers had managed to catch up to them… they might all be dead now. And there was no guarantee that the MPs wouldn’t manage to track them down again.

And… equally pressing on his mind was the anxiety of not knowing what had happened to the others. He glanced over at Mikasa, who was fiddling with her horse’s bridle. At a glance she looked unfazed, but Armin could see the tight press of her lips. He stepped over, his legs still numb, and offered her the waterskin. She paused for a moment before accepting it with a nod of thanks, taking a quick swig.

“How are you holding up?” He asked.

“Fine.” Mikasa responded automatically, her voice clipped. She glanced over, and a look of understanding passed between them. Mikasa handed the waterskin back to him, stepping away from the horse and sighing briefly. “Let’s just finish our break, and get to the meeting point.”

“We’re not going to the meeting point,” Levi said from nearby, where he was readjusting his saddle. “Not yet.”

All eyes snapped to him. “Why not?” Mikasa asked sharply, then added belatedly, “Sir.”

“There’s somewhere else we need to go first.” Levi let go of his saddle and glanced around before beckoning them over. The other four members of the group huddled around, and he lowered his voice as he explained.

“According to Erwin's message, our headquarters is under tight watch,” he said grimly. “Some interior lapdog went and parked himself over there, saying it’s for the annual review, but that’s pure bullshit. On top of that, the place is surrounded.” He scowled. “They haven’t made any direct moves. They think they’re being sneaky. But apparently, they’re tracking anyone who leaves base, and interrupting all communications.”

Armin’s heart sank. This wasn’t unexpected, but it was still a bad situation, to say the least. It meant that they couldn’t go back, or get reinforcements, until they somehow resolved this mess. On the other hand, this behavior was even more incriminating for the Military Police. But…

“But why does that mean we can’t go to the meetup point?” Sasha was the one to voice the question, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“We will,” Levi reassured them, his eyes passing over their anxious faces. “We’re going to regroup with the others, and then do some investigating. But first… the Commander’s arranged a supply drop for us.”

“We can’t do that after…?” Sasha started to ask.

“No,” Armin broke in, as understanding clicked into place. “We have to consider the possibility that they were tracked, too. We can’t waste time getting there.”

“Right.” Levi nodded. “We _could_ do this mission without the extra gear, and if it comes down to it, we might have to. But it’ll be a hell of a lot more strenuous.”

“Sir,” Armin said with a frown. “What about the possibility that the message was intercepted?”

“They couldn’t have read it anyway.” Levi flashed a rare, sharp grin that vanished as soon as it appeared. “It’s written in code. Aside from Erwin, only Hanji and I know it.”

“How far is the supply drop?” Mikasa asked impatiently.

“It’s at Angleim,” Levi said. “About ten miles south of here. Lucky for us, it’s a lakeside fishing town, so it’s busy. We won’t attract too much attention.”

“And where’s the meetup point?” Armin asked. “I wasn’t fully briefed on this plan.”

“Tohlridge Forest,” Mikasa told him, her voice sour. “It’s in the opposite direction.”

It was. Armin ran through the mental calculations, his heart sinking. It would be the middle of the night by the time they reached Angleim, and busy town or not, they’d definitely be conspicuous if they tried to go in then. They’d have to wait until morning before they could enter safely, and depending on how things went, they wouldn’t make it to Tohlridge until at least dusk.

A day wasn’t so bad, Armin told himself firmly, as the group dispersed to take care of what they needed to for the last few minutes of their respite. He’d endured far longer periods of not knowing Eren’s fate. But at least those times, there had been things to do, work to keep him busy, battles to fight. Now, there was nothing but the prospect of long hours ahead, and the repetitive rhythm of horseback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late! The next one will likely end up late as well - the writing's been going kind of slowly lately, but I'm still pushing on with it. Thank you all so much for your patience and kind words! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you have a great day/night! <3


	28. Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin and Mikasa try not to worry.

“See anything?”

Levi called up as he continued to pace a length of the forest floor.

“No.” Mikasa’s voice drifted back from the treetops. “I’ll let you know if I do.” A shade of impatience colored her tone. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

Armin sat with his back to a tree trunk, knees drawn up. He was tired and hungry and worried – they all were, and it was making them irritable. As he’d expected, they’d reached the outskirts of Angleim late at night. They were lucky that it was summer, since they couldn’t risk building a fire and drawing attention. Still, between the watch shifts, the night chill, the hard ground, and the fear that the Military Police might come bearing down out of the shadows at any minute, none of them slept too well.

When morning had finally rolled around and they could hear the growing clamor of traffic on the main road some distance away, Sasha and Rook had slipped into the procession to go find the suppliers in town. Levi and Mikasa would be too easily-identifiable, and it went without saying that Armin couldn’t go in. All they could do now was wait, and watch for their return – or for any signs of a disturbance.

Armin watched the horses, tethered to a toppled tree a short distance away and munching contentedly on their feed bags. He did his best to ignore the jealous rumble in his own stomach – the scant handfuls of sour, shriveled wild blueberries they’d managed to forage earlier weren’t nearly enough, but there wasn’t much they could do about that. They couldn’t cook anything they might hunt, anyway. Sasha and Rook had been instructed to bring back provisions as well, if they could, so once again, waiting was the only option.

Armin tried not to fidget. He hoped they came back soon – it had been over two hours since they’d left. He hoped nothing had happened. They’d brought flares in case they got into trouble, but if the MPs somehow managed to get the drop on them…

He shook it off. Sasha’s instincts rivaled even Mikasa’s, he reminded himself. All he could do was trust that they would be fine. Armin sighed, anxious to get back on the road.

Levi abruptly stopped pacing, rubbing at his temples. “I’m coming up,” he called, striding over to Mikasa’s tree and stepping easily up into the lower branches. “Switch out.”

He disappeared up into the foliage and a moment later Mikasa descended, alighting gracefully amongst the gnarled roots. She was back in her maneuver gear – apparently, everyone’s gear had been stored with the horses when not in use, to be packed quickly in case of an emergency. Except Armin’s, that is. His gear was probably rotting in some interior dungeon, or maybe being pawned off on the black market for some extra coin, he thought bitterly. Mikasa moved in hers as easily as if it were a second skin. But she looked unusually disgruntled.

“He should’ve just taken watch from the start if he was going to keep bothering me,” she grumbled under her breath as she came to sit down beside Armin, her motions slightly stiff.

“It’s rare to see him on-edge like this,” Armin said. He glanced over at her profile. “And you, too.”

Mikasa shrugged loosely, tugging her knees up and draping her arms over them with a frown. “Aren’t we all?”

He managed a wry smile. “Yeah. I guess there’s not much helping that in this situation. Being forced to split up like this… it’s never a good thing.”

He saw Mikasa’s eyebrow twitch ever so slightly, and felt his stomach clench. He knew how much this was killing her – a hollow kind of nausea had been settled firmly in his own gut since yesterday. If he hadn’t needed to be protected…

But he stopped himself, clamping down on the apology that had risen almost instinctively to his lips. Self-deprecation wouldn’t change anything, and it wasn’t what Mikasa needed to hear. Especially not after she’d risked her life for him.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” was what he said instead, leaning over just enough to bump his shoulder against hers.

“We can only hope,” Mikasa muttered, her lips a grim line.

“No, really,” Armin pressed. “We would’ve heard it if he’d transformed. But he didn’t, and we know he’d never go down without a fight.” He swallowed, voicing the rationalizations he’d been feeding himself all night. “Besides, the Military Police… they have no reason to kill him. Even if they did somehow manage to catch him and stop him from shifting, the better strategy would be to use him as a hostage. It would be stupid of the Survey Corps to protect me over humanity’s hope, after all.” He forced a thin smile despite the sickening lump that clogged up his throat at the thought of Eren being at the mercy of Adler’s ranks. And that gunshot, the one they’d heard echoing from the depths of the forest… it haunted him. The MPs his own group had encountered had swept in ready to shoot, never bothering to check under their hoods first. A single, well-aimed shot… well, it could kill someone in an instant. Armin suppressed a shudder and swallowed, tasting bile.

Mikasa still looked skeptical, perhaps worried about the same possibilities Armin had left unsaid. But she heaved a heavy sigh, and shook her head. “No, you’re right. The chances are better that he’s at least alive.” She forced a faint smile of her own, but it crumbled quickly. “I swore I would protect my family,” Mikasa said quietly. She looked up, and Armin was struck by how lost she looked. “But what do I do when protecting one of you means leaving the other behind?”

Armin opened his mouth, and then closed it. But he didn’t have time to respond before they were interrupted by Levi dropping noiselessly back to the ground. Before he even spoke, they could tell by his expression that something was wrong.

“There’s a wagon coming back this way,” he said as Armin and Mikasa scrambled onto their feet. “It’s leading our horses.”

They exchanged an alarmed glance. “And you don’t recognize the driver?” Armin asked, already anticipating the answer.

Sure enough, Levi shook his head. “They’re wearing hoods – not ours. But their builds are too different to be Blaus and Rook anyway.”

Armin frowned, trying to think. “Could it be that—?”

“Anything _could_ be, for all we know.” Levi cut him off, his hands briskly checking the adjustment of his gear straps. “You two, mount up. I’m going to head to the main road – if you hear my whistle, get out of here. Head to the meetup point, but make _sure_ you’re not followed.” And before either of them could protest, he was gone, only the mechanical whirr of his cables lingering in the clearing.

“…Come on,” Mikasa said, her voice taut.

Armin followed her over to the horses, quickly untethering theirs while she checked the saddle and swung up into it. She reached down, her grip firm on his arm as she helped him up behind her, his body groaning at the discomfort of being back on a horse. And then they waited, hardly daring to breathe as they listened, straining their ears over the birdcalls, the shifting and huffing of the horses, the distant clatter of hooves and wheels and the cheerful voices of merchants on their way to and from town.

They waited. And waited.

Suddenly, they heard movement – the crack of a twig underfoot. Mikasa’s grip tightened on the reins, her hand flying to her pistol, and Armin grabbed for his own, his heart thundering in his ears.

But then a figure emerged from the trees, and the tension went out of Mikasa’s shoulders at once.

“Sasha,” she said, the relief evident in her voice. “You’re okay?”

Sasha grinned back, strolling fully into the clearing. “Yup! Just fine.”

“What happened?” Armin asked anxiously. “The Corporal said your horses were with a wagon.”

“Yeah, those’re the suppliers,” she replied. “The whole town was crawling with MPs – I guess they managed to track Erwin’s message to the town, but luckily not down to the people themselves.” She peeked quickly into the covered basket strapped to Levi’s steed to check on the messenger bird recuperating inside. Then she moved to untether the horse, continuing with a grimace. “They were stopping people on the streets. We figured we’d be less conspicuous if we hid in the wagon on the way out. Here, come with me, we found an old empty trail to stop in.”

They followed her as she led Levi’s horse some distance through the trees, and before long they spotted a wagon wedged onto a narrow dirt path just barely wide enough to fit it. Levi, Rook, and two strangers were busy fastening bundles to the two Survey Corps steeds. Levi’s gaze snapped to them as they approached, his steely eyes flicking briskly over each of them in turn before he jerked his head for Armin and Mikasa to dismount. They obeyed, leading the horse over to help load up the supplies.

Mikasa hefted a bundle out of the wagon with ease, but when Armin tried to reach in, Levi stopped him.

“Just a minute,” he said, hopping into the wagon. “I have something for you, first.” He stepped back to an open crate, its lid propped against its side, and reached in. “It’ll need some adjustment – it’s not new, when do we ever get fresh equipment…” his words trailed off into a grumble as he stooped, and Armin reached up to accept the bulky shape of a set of maneuver gear.

“Thank you,” he said, oddly choked, but Levi waved him off.

“Gear up. Blaus, Rook, you too.” He frowned, and turned back to the wagon. “Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

Armin moved out of the way, setting the gear down and quickly donning the familiar maze of leather straps. Familiar, yet not – they were worn and softened, but scratched and scuffed in different places than what he was used to. The buckles were slightly smudged, and the leather curved naturally to fit a shape that was not his own.

All the same, as Armin strapped the gear proper into place behind him and felt the weight of the cylinders settle against his lower back, he realized how _good_ it felt to be back in uniform. He’d never thought he would feel that way. It was usually such a relief to lose the pressure of the belts and don civilian clothes, but right now… he was just glad to be trusted as a soldier again. As Armin pulled his shoes back on and adjusted the chest strap one last time, he felt himself standing a little bit taller.

They finished loading the supplies onto the horses, and finally they each got packs. Armin slung his onto his back, making sure it wasn’t too tight around his shoulders. It had been a while since he’d worn one of these – the Survey Corps didn’t usually do long-term expeditions, after all.

Levi was talking quietly to the suppliers when he suddenly froze. They all did – the unmistakable sound of rattling cart wheels was approaching from farther down the path, around the bend. Levi silently gave a hand signal, and the rest of them obeyed, ushering the horses back into the trees while the suppliers climbed back into the wagon and picked up their reins.

Safely out of sight, Armin, Mikasa, and the others quickly mounted their horses again. But instead of giving the order to depart, Levi held a finger to his lips. They were out of sight, but still within earshot.

The rattling grew closer and closer – it should be rounding the bend now, Armin thought. And sure enough, the rattling stopped. He listened with bated breath.

“Well hey there,” called a woman’s voice, rich and strong and with the slight lilt of a dialect. “Now this is rather a jam. How’re we s’posed to get around each other?”

Armin exhaled, but it was too early to relax. The Military Police were not above subterfuge, after all.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” a man’s voice replied – one of the suppliers. “Took a little detour, forgot how narrow this trail actually was.” He chuckled sheepishly, sounding perfectly casual.

The woman heaved a loud sigh. “No kiddin’. What’re those soldier fools thinkin’, blockin’ off the main road in the middle of the morning? Don’t they know I got a business to run? Things’re tight enough this year as it is.”

Armin and Mikasa both tensed.

“The main road’s blocked?” The man’s voice had a cautious edge to it now. “What for?”

“Beats me, but it’s all backed up.” The woman sounded exasperated. “Thank Sina us locals know the old paths, eh? Hang on a sec…” She paused for a moment, and her voice grew suspicious. “How come you’re back here if you don’t know ‘bout the roadblock?”

Levi gestured to get their attention, and gave the signal. Slowly and as quietly as possible, they navigated their horses away between the trees. The voices faded behind them.

“We’re going to stick to the plan,” Levi called back once they were a safe distance away. “We’ll follow the Hawkfoot river north and then break off before we get to Gahlhelm Outpost. The riverbank is out in the open, but we’ll bet on the MPs being focused on Angleim back there.” He spurred his horse into a trot. “Hoods up, and stay alert.”

The rest of the group followed, obediently tugging their hoods back over their heads. Not that it made them any less conspicuous. A ragtag group of hooded riders, one horse short, laden with supplies, and following a backwoods river would only arouse suspicion if they were seen. And, Armin thought grimly, remembering how the MPs had come swinging in with their fingers on the triggers, obscuring their identities didn’t seem like it would help things much. All they could do was hope they didn’t run into anyone who would think to report them.

On the other hand, at least the horses would make faster ground without roots and underbrush and fallen branches to trip them up. And they’d gotten their supplies, which meant that, hopefully, they wouldn’t have to risk stopping in any more towns along the way.

“We made it just in time,” he murmured to Mikasa over her shoulder. She nodded wordlessly, and Armin bit his lip, thinking. “Listen, about what you said before… I don’t know that there’s ever going to be a satisfying answer. Sometimes… sometimes a situation requires you to leave someone, for a little while.” He gave a deep sigh, his chest still tight, a heavy weight on his mind. “It’s impossible not to worry. But all we can do is stay alive on our end, and… and trust that he’ll stay alive on his.” He gave her shoulder a light squeeze where his hand rested to hold him steady on the trotting horse.

She was silent for a few moments, and then Armin felt her cool, calloused fingers brush briefly over his own.

“Thanks,” Mikasa said, so softly it was almost lost beneath the thud of hoofbeats as the horses emerged from the woods onto a grassy riverbank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience everybody! I've managed to get myself back into a better writing rhythm, so with a little luck the next chapter will be up on 12/2, and hopefully from there I can get back on my two-week schedule. Sorry for the inconsistency! And thank you as always to everyone who is still enjoying and supporting this fic. It makes me so happy to know that there are people getting something positive out of this story!


	29. Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin's group makes it to the meetup point.

They were back in the woods, the trees denser here than they’d been around the safehouse or near Angleim. It was slow going for the horses, since they were keeping off the trails again just to be safe. They plodded through the underbrush, huffing and tired in the dark twilight shadows. Armin was right there with them. They had only stopped once the whole day, to rest briefly and eat some of the provisions they’d picked up, and he was sore and tired from the long ride. But he sat upright and alert in the saddle, hands braced against Mikasa’s pack with his eyes fixed ahead over her shoulder, the nervous jitter of his heart in his throat. They were almost there.

The ground sloped upwards as they drew nearer to the meeting point. Tohlridge was the closest thing the Walls had to a mountain, and the thick forest made it good hunting ground. There was nothing out of the ordinary about campfire smoke snaking up from the trees here. It was a popular place for running survival drills, too – in fact, the 104th had been given a three-day survival test here before graduation, all those years ago. Armin had been grouped with Eren and Connie, and… actually, it had been fun. Still a challenge, yes, but one focused on resource collection and management rather than constant physical endurance.

Now was not the time for reminiscing, though. The trees were thinning out a little, and he could tell by the way Levi’s shoulders were perfectly squared that they must be getting close.

Armin held his breath. The horses’ hooves thudded dully against the springy forest ground. A few birds twittered sleepily from their roosts above.

And then a voice faded into hearing range, and Armin’s heart leapt. There was no mistaking Hanji’s conversational chatter drifting from just beyond the next cluster of trees.

It was like a switch had been flipped, releasing the tension in the group. Levi’s shoulders relaxed slightly, Sasha slumped in her saddle, and Mikasa expelled a long breath. Levi spurred his horse on a little faster, and the rest of them followed suit, and they wove through the underbrush, Armin’s heart beating fast as he dared to hope—

The ground leveled out and they reached a clearing, and a small campsite came into view. Hanji was crouched over a fire pit, attempting to light some kindling and talking apparently to themself, while another soldier – Armin recognized Roland Hurst – tended to the horses tethered off to one side. Both sets of eyes darted immediately to the newcomers, and Hanji’s expression lit up at once, but Armin wasn’t listening to whatever it was they cried out in greeting. His gaze darted around the campsite, hope turning to dread. Nobody else was in the clearing. Hurst was tending the horses. Three horses. There should be four. He felt hollow.

A sudden rustling caught his attention and his eyes snapped over. And there, emerging from the woods on the opposite side of the clearing, arms laden with a bundle of branches, was Eren. He looked drawn and tired but he was uninjured, and a wave of pure relief washed over Armin as Eren saw the newcomers and froze, gaze flicking frantically over each rider until it landed on him and Mikasa, whereupon he promptly dropped the branches and bolted for them.

Mikasa was already gone from the horse and Armin scrambled to follow her. No sooner had his feet touched the ground than Eren was catching both of them in his arms. All the breath went out of Armin’s lungs as Eren’s grip clenched around his back, squeezing him tightly against two bodies, and he clutched back at them instinctively.

“What took you guys so long?” Eren asked, and Armin didn’t miss the slight waver in his voice.

“Had to take a detour,” Armin mumbled against him, his own throat burning a little. He squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to bury his face in Eren’s shoulder for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Mikasa breathed, her arms tight around both of them.

They pulled apart to look at each other, similar expressions of relief painted over each of their faces.

“That must’ve been a hell of a detour,” Eren said. “You got out before us… how far did they chase you?” His eyes landed on their packs and his brows furrowed as he just now took notice of them. “Where’d those come from?”

But Levi cut in before either of them could answer. “Quit yammering and get the horses unloaded and tethered,” he ordered shortly. “We’ll regroup once that’s done.”

“Y-yes, sir.” With sheepish glances at each other, the trio hurried to their tasks. Eren jogged back to gather up the branches he’d dropped, and the rest of them quickly unstrapped the horses’ loads. Armin let his own pack drop to the ground, some of the pressure uncoiling from his shoulders (though it was nothing compared to the weight that had lifted when he’d seen Eren’s face), and then went to help tend to the tired animals. He passed by the campfire on the way, where Hanji was blowing on the tiny tendrils of a beginning flame, and beside them crouched Eren, passing over extra bits of kindling to help it catch. Eren glanced up, and for a brief moment, their gazes caught. As Armin readied the feedbag for Mikasa’s horse, the soreness of the long ride didn’t seem quite so bad anymore.

\--

It wasn’t long before everything was taken care of, and they all grouped up around the campfire. It was now burning steadily, and they all shared a meal of some watery stew made with some shriveled mushrooms Hanji and the others had managed to scrounge up during the day. Apparently they hadn’t had much luck with hunting. Armin and Mikasa fell into place on either side of Eren as naturally as breathing.

Levi’s steely gaze flicked around the ring of people. “First things first,” he said, “where’s Tiller?”

Eren’s face fell, Hanji’s lips pressed into a tight line, and Hurst winced, telling them everything they needed to know.

Levi gave a long, weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. The harsh light of the campfire in the fading dusk cast gaunt shadows over his face. “How?”

It was Eren who spoke. “It… it was after she sent up the signal flare, sir.” He spoke stiffly, and Armin’s heart dropped at his expression as he stared at the ground. “I ran into her in the woods while she was leading the MPs away from the safehouse, like we were ordered. But they had guns and they…” His voice cracked and he shook his head quickly. “At least it was over in one shot.”

Levi straightened up and nodded curtly, his expression carefully blank once again. “She died fulfilling her mission… She’ll be remembered.” He looked around at them, and moved on. “How far were you pursued?”

Hanji chimed in now. “Not far… they all made for the blue smoke signal when it went up. I’m assuming that’s where you guys were?” Levi nodded in response, and Hanji continued. “We had no problems getting our horses and making it here after that. Now it’s your turn. Where in Sina’s name did those supplies come from?”

“Erwin,” Levi replied. “A bird reached us just before we were attacked. It was injured.”

Hanji frowned thoughtfully. “That must be how they found us, then.”

Levi nodded. “The most important thing is that the bird made it. Erwin’s message had orders to pick up supplies he’d arranged to have ready at Angleim.”

“Ah. That would account for your delay in getting here.” Hanji frowned. “You couldn’t have stopped by to pick us up first? We were starting to fear the worst.”

“It’s a good thing we didn’t,” Levi said grimly. “The MPs somehow managed to track communications to Angleim, too. Apparently they’d started searching travelers just as we were leaving… if we’d been any later, we’d be screwed.”

Hanji’s expression darkened. “I guess they’ve got base well and truly staked out.”

“Yeah, Erwin mentioned that too.” Levi scowled, and looked around at everyone. “Our next orders are to investigate Jalrut. Now, not everyone has been filled in on all the details of this mission…”

He brusquely summarized their discovery of the documents that had been hidden in Armin’s book, and their theory about the tunnels. When he was finished, Sasha, Rook, and Hurst stared back at him in shock, their stew forgotten.

“Th… The Military Police have a base _outside_ the Walls?” Sasha asked incredulously, her tin dish nearly slipping from her fingers. “What? They don’t care about defeating the Titans or going outside, why would they—?” She cut off with a splutter, her voice high with frustration and anger.

“That’s what we need to find out,” Hanji said, their voice low and serious. “If they’re keeping it from us, it can’t be good.”

Once they had finished their rather unsatisfying meal, the group huddled around the map Levi had swiped from the safehouse sitting room. They plotted out their route, with a little difficulty thanks to the flickering shadows and drifting sparks that threatened to eat tiny holes in the aged paper. Then they took stock of their supplies – they had bedrolls, a few tents, survival knives and extra pistol ammunition, basic medical supplies, emergency rations, and some other items.

It was too dark by now to pitch the tents, so instead they all picked spots around the clearing to spread their bedrolls. Hanji volunteered for first watch, and Levi stayed by the low-burning fire to talk with them, their voices indistinguishable murmurs over the crackle and spit of the logs as everyone else began to settle down.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa found a spot where they could fit all three of their mats at an angle to each other. Eren was still silent as they shucked their harnesses – he hadn’t spoken at all through the rest of the meal or the briefing – and Armin and Mikasa shared a glance.

“Are you okay?” Armin asked softly, reaching out to briefly catch Eren’s forearm. He looked up as if coming out of a reverie, his eyes flicking between them. His expression was heavy with guilt, and Armin knew what was bothering him without needing to be told. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“She knew the risks when she joined the Survey Corps,” Mikasa said, her voice firm.

But Eren didn’t look convinced. “The bullet went right past me,” he muttered. “If I’d just been a little to the right… I could’ve taken it. I would’ve healed.”

Alarm rose in Armin’s throat, and he grabbed for Eren’s hand in earnest now. “Don’t,” he pleaded, squeezing hard at warm fingers. “You don’t know… if it hit you in the wrong spot…” He shook his head, not wanting to revisit the possibilities that had plagued him for the past two days. “Besides, if the Military Police had managed to capture you… that would be it. You’re the best bargaining chip they could ask for.”

“Eren.” They both looked over and even Armin felt a chill run down his spine at the anger burning in Mikasa’s dark eyes. They were sharp enough to rival the intensity of even Levi’s glare. “We heard that gunshot. Do you have any idea how afraid we were that it _was_ you on the other end of it?” She bristled, but before Eren could stammer out a reply, she continued. “The reason we were able to follow orders and keep going,” she said, “was because we trusted you to do the same and keep yourself safe.” Her fierce gaze flicked over. “Right, Armin?”

“R-Right,” he agreed, and Eren slumped, looking a little ashamed.

“You guys are right,” he admitted. “Sorry.” He twisted his hand in Armin’s grip so he could squeeze back at him, and looked between the two of them. “I was really worried about you guys, too… I’m glad you’re safe.” Tentatively, he offered his other hand to Mikasa. She accepted it with a satisfied nod, her nose ducking into her scarf.

They broke apart after a moment and crawled into their bedrolls, the extra padding a relief to Armin’s body after the night on the hard ground.

“Oh,” Mikasa remembered, propped up on one elbow. “We had a little time to pack before we left. We got your things, too.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Eren looked grateful, and his gaze shifted to Armin. “So then you’ve also got…?”

“Yeah, we’ve still got the book, too.” Armin nodded. “Not that we’ll really need it for this.”

“Who knows? It’s surprised us before,” Mikasa said, with the slightest hint of a smile. “Anyway, we should get some rest. It’s going to be a long few days.”

They murmured their goodnights, and settled down on their mats. It wasn’t long before Mikasa’s breathing evened out, stretching into a slow, steady rhythm. But Armin lay awake, staring at the backs of his eyelids. He knew he should be tired, and he was. But the firelight had left him with a headache and there was a weight in his chest that refused to let his mind settle, a different kind of weight than the one that had kept him up last night. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and rolled over with an exhale, and sensed that he was being watched.

When he opened his eyes, Eren was looking back at him. The dim campfire glow lit the question in his gaze. _What is it?_

Armin sucked at his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth. He cast a glance up at Mikasa, content enough in their safety to sleep. He met Eren’s eyes again.

“I hate it when you talk like that,” he whispered softly, and saw the guilt flicker back into Eren’s expression. “Like it doesn’t matter if you put yourself in danger… like you’re worth _less.”_

“I’m sorry,” Eren breathed. “I’m sorry, I just… What good is any of this,” he gestured vaguely at himself, “if I can’t even protect people? I’ve let so many people die… get hurt. Without being able to do a thing.” His teeth clicked together and Armin saw his throat bob as he swallowed, saw green eyes glistening in the dim firelight.

“You _do_ protect people,” Armin insisted. “There’s so much that wouldn’t have been possible without you. Taking back Trost, and Wall Maria… Everyone in this clearing right now is able to be here because of you.” He paused to take a breath. “Eren, you’ve saved me more times than I can count. In more ways than one. I mean… I mean, who else would’ve stopped me from flying off with the balloon that day?”

Eren cracked a smile at that, and Armin felt his own expression relaxing as well. He reached across the space between their mats to cup Eren’s face, the curve of his jaw fitting comfortably into his palm. “But one person can’t do everything alone. And you’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong.”

Eren reached up to cover Armin’s hand with his own. “I’ve never been good at remembering that part,” he admitted. His tone was light, but Armin could hear the bitterness behind it.

“I know,” Armin sighed. “Just… please try to remember that there are people who love you.”

Eren turned his face into Armin’s hand, leaving a warm, dry kiss against the heel of his palm. “I know.”


	30. Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survey Corps find a place to camp. Armin and Hanji have a word.

They made slow progress through the hillside, despite making use of the hunting trails that wove and crisscrossed through the dense woods – the trails were unkempt and slightly overgrown, as if there hadn’t been much traffic through them lately. Sasha scouted ahead, and Rook kept a distance behind the main group, both ready to give the warning call at any sign of danger.

They traveled in silence, and even the forest seemed to reflect this. Aside from the occasional rustle of a breeze, it was almost eerily quiet. The plodding hoofbeats over the old trail seemed too loud.

Armin’s back and legs ached from walking. They were leading the horses on foot through the narrower parts of the trails, serving the double purpose of giving them a break from carrying human weight. Armin fought to keep his breathing even. He’d be damned if he were the first person to climb back up on a horse. They’d only been walking for a few hours. He set his jaw and soldiered on, hands gripping the shoulder straps of his pack.

“Hold,” Levi’s voice suddenly rang out, and the group slowed to a halt, tensing. Armin heard hooves trotting closer, and a moment later, Sasha appeared.

“Report,” Levi ordered.

“Sir,” Sasha said, saluting from her saddle. “There are some other hunters up ahead, on our planned route. There’s another trail leading around to the north, but it’ll take us up over the ridge.”

Even from a distance, Armin could see Levi’s frown of displeasure. “We’ll just have to take the detour,” he decided. “It’s better than risking being seen by the wrong person.” He turned to signal the rest of the group, but Sasha interrupted.

“Um, if I may,” she said, shifting in her saddle. Levi gestured for her to continue. “I think we should find a place to camp early.” She cast a nervous glance up at the bright patches of sky through the canopy of leaves. “It smells like rain.”

Levi fixed her with a stare. “Are you sure?”

Sasha nodded. “Yes, sir. Positive.” Her horse scuffed at the ground as if in agreement.

Levi gave a long sigh. “Alright,” he said, and turned back to the rest of them. “Everyone hear that?”

A chorus of yes sirs drifted back, and Levi sent the last person in line back to let Rook know of the change in plans. Sasha rode ahead again, off to find a suitable campsite.

Armin felt a mixture of relief and frustration as they began to move forward again. He’d be glad to have the chance to rest, but… this would only put them behind. Still, he thought with a sigh, Sasha knew what she was talking about when it came to these things. Trying to make camp after it had already started raining would be a miserable task. Not to mention trying to navigate the horses through these sloped, winding paths while they were slick with mud and wet leaves was just _asking_ for injury.

They turned onto a branching trail, meandering at an incline up the steep hillside. They had to be extra careful here, leading the puffing horses over the twisting roots. Armin’s own lungs were burning by the time they reached level ground again. But luckily, Sasha was waiting to tell them she had found a spot to camp. They followed her off the path, picking slowly through the dense woods until they reached an area where the trees thinned out enough to give them the space they needed.

Levi cast a glance around and nodded curtly. “Good work,” he told Sasha, who beamed.

First things first, after getting the horses tethered, was to set up the tents and secure their shelter. They split into their groups without needing to be told. Eren, Armin, and Hurst were in one tent, Mikasa, Sasha, and Rook were in another, and Hanji and Levi were in the third. They worked quickly, staking down their ground tarps, setting up the modest, slightly musty tents, and stringing up the rain tarps above them.

A cool breeze ruffled Armin’s hair as he secured a complicated knot, and the light filtering in through the trees was grayer now. He could smell the rain now, too. The earth beneath his feet seemed to give off a rich scent, as if opening its pores to welcome the coming shower.

Levi glanced up, narrowing his eyes at the sky as if he could keep the weather at bay with the force of his glare alone. “Let’s work fast,” he said. “Sasha, Mikasa, go set some game traps. Armin and Hanji, you stay in camp and unload the horses so our supplies don’t get wet. Everyone else, we’re gathering firewood before it all gets waterlogged. Keep an eye out for anyone else in the woods, and try not to be seen if you can avoid it.”

Everyone scattered, and Armin felt his stomach clench as he was left alone with Hanji. Still, there was work that needed to be done. He wordlessly turned to hurry over to one of the horses, quickly unstrapping the remaining supply packs and reaching underneath to undo the saddle. He heard Hanji move to do the same to the next horse over, but he kept his gaze fixed steadily on the task at hand. But then he paused, glancing around in uncertainty of where to put the bulky objects.

“My tent has some extra space,” Hanji said. Their voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the forest, above the light shuffles and snorts of the horses. Armin had no choice but to look at them. Hanji held a supply pack under one arm, and a saddle rested at their feet. They were gazing off into the center of camp. “We can store the extra supplies in there, at least. Though we’ll have to find somewhere else to put the saddles.” They frowned at the one by their feet, and then glanced up at Armin. “Here, gimme that pack. I’ll run them over to the tent while you unload the other horses.” They reached out, still not quite meeting Armin’s gaze.

“Yes, Squad Leader.” Armin replied dispassionately, obediently hefting up his supply pack and handing it over. Hanji took it under the other arm, and Armin heard their footsteps hurrying away as he turned back to the horses.

They worked in silence for the next few minutes, Armin undoing knots and buckles, Hanji darting back and forth between the tent and the horses. Armin wasn’t sure how to feel about Hanji’s obvious awkwardness. Part of him was a little resentful. _They should’ve been prepared for this,_ it thought. _Or did they expect things to be all sunshine and rainbows?_ Another, smaller part of him took a petty satisfaction in their discomfort. But… mostly, he actually felt kind of bad. He knew that none of what had happened had been out of personal malice, that it had all been for a greater cause – and sometimes, sacrifices were necessary. They had gained some potentially groundbreaking information as a result of all this.

_Does that matter?_ Mikasa’s voice echoed in his mind. _You still got hurt._

He frowned, but before he could think any further, Hanji’s voice interrupted and he realized that he’d finished unloading the horses.

“Alright,” Hanji said, “Saddles.” They scanned the area and Armin dutifully looked around, too. They certainly couldn’t store those in the tents, and they wouldn’t fit under the rain tarps, either. He glanced up at the sky as another breeze gusted through the trees, as if reminding them of their time limit.

“We might have to just build a shelter for them,” Armin said.

Hanji hmmed and nodded. “You might be right. We’d better hop to it, then!” Their voice sounded overly cheerful as they hefted up the stack of saddles, hurrying them over to a toppled tree trunk they could use as a frame. Armin set about gathering long pieces of broken branches for a quick shelter, and Hanji did the same a short distance away.

Hanji was the one to break the silence as they and Armin worked side-by-side, leaning the sticks and branches against the tree trunk to build a roof over the saddles.

“So,” they said, not taking their eyes off the work. “I hear your recovery has been going well.”

Armin let the words hang in the air for a moment before he replied. “It’s been improving, yes.” He made sure the branches were wedged firmly enough into the ground that they wouldn’t fall over.

“That’s good to hear.”

Silence again. Hanji picked up a branch from the pile, realized it was too short, and put it down again.

“How have you been feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Good, good…”

Armin almost rolled his eyes, but he stopped to mentally scold himself for being irritated when he knew Hanji was making an effort. Was it childish of him to act so aloof when they were trying to make amends? Should he just accept their overtures of friendliness, smile, and try to move on as if nothing had happened?

_You still got hurt,_ Mikasa said.

“You know—" Hanji began, but Armin cut them off.

“Squad Leader,” he said, pausing in his work to turn and face Hanji. He stood up straight, and met their gaze behind their glasses for the first time since he’d been rescued. “I appreciate your concern. And I realize that I… spoke out of turn the last time you tried to apologize. I’m sorry for that.” Hanji blinked back at him in surprise, and he continued. “I understand your reasons for withholding information from me. It was your right as my superior, and considering what we gained from it… I believe it was the right decision.” He swallowed. Those words twisted painfully in his gut, but he pushed on. “I trust your judgement as an officer of the Survey Corps, and I will be happy to continue working with you as such. But… please don’t try to be my friend.”

Hanji stared down at Armin’s carefully neutral expression, looking as if they wanted to say something. Then they shut their mouth, and smiled wryly.

“That’s fair,” they said, and gave a brisk nod. “As you were, Private.”

They both turned back to the shelter, filling in gaps between the branches with a layer of dead leaves to help keep water out. They worked in silence, but somehow, some of the tension seemed to have ebbed.

\--

The others trailed back into camp in ones and twos as the air was growing grayer and heavier. Mikasa and Sasha hadn’t seen any traces of game animals while setting their traps, but they reported finding a small stream not too far away. The others came back with armfuls of firewood, which they tucked into the small shelter along with the saddles. Levi gathered some twigs, and everyone but Armin drew lots for the watch rotation. Sasha pulled the first shift and pouted, but she knew better than to complain out loud.

“Alright,” Levi said. “If any of you need to take a shit, I suggest you do it before the rain starts.” He turned, and disappeared into his tent.

The soldiers dispersed, retreating to shelter or milling around to chat now that they were dismissed. Sasha was looking around the treetops for the thickest branch to station herself beneath. Hurst was double-checking that the horses were securely tethered. Armin stood in place, gazing absently around their scattered campsite, and Eren gravitated to his side.

“Everything okay?” He asked, and Armin didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. He hadn’t missed the anxious glance Eren had sent his way when it was announced he’d be working with Hanji.

“Yeah,” he replied truthfully. Mikasa meandered over from where Sasha had hunkered down, and joined them. “Everything’s fine, actually.”

“Really?” Mikasa looked skeptical, casting a sharp glance towards the officer’s tent. “You worked all that out in half an hour?” She frowned.

“Well… sort of.” Armin quietly told them about his conversation with Hanji. When it was done, Mikasa looked faintly exasperated.

“You’re too nice,” she said, though there was fondness in her voice.

Eren, on the other hand, was suppressing a grin. “What are you talking about? That was brutal!”

Armin pouted a little as he looked between the two of them. “I thought it was reasonable…”

“It was,” Eren reassured him, meeting his gaze and holding it. His expression sobered. “You can't force yourself to pretend like everything's just magically back to normal.” He shifted closer, like he wasn’t even consciously thinking about it, and Armin felt fingers brushing his own.

“I guess the important thing is that you feel better,” Mikasa said. Then she added in a mutter, “But I still think you were too nice.”

Armin suppressed a smile of his own now. “Thanks,” he said softly.

A thin water droplet suddenly splashed onto his nose, and they looked up as they heard the telltale patter of rain sprinkling against the leaves above, and falling to the forest floor. The remaining soldiers scurried to their tents, with the exception of Sasha, who leaned against a tree trunk with her hood up and her arms crossed.

“Anyone feel like switching out with me?” She asked, half-hopefully, seeing the three of them still outside.

“No thanks,” Eren said, his hand curling fully around Armin’s now. “We should get inside.” Armin glanced up to briefly catch his gaze, wordless agreement passing between them. Their palms fit together perfectly.

The corners of Mikasa’s lips tugged slightly upwards as she glanced at their joined hands. “See you later,” she murmured with a slight wave, and turned to go.

Sasha’s shoulders perked up as Mikasa strode purposefully towards her… then slumped as she made a sharp left and disappeared into their tent. “Gets me every time,” Sasha grumbled to herself, with a wry grin.

The raindrops began to fall with increasing intensity. Hand in hand, Eren and Armin hurried to their own tent as the sky opened up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thirty chapters huh... And still no end in sight! Just kidding. We're about to head into the final arc(s?), though it's true that I don't know exactly how much longer it will be. At the pace I've been going, I'll estimate maaaybe another 10-15 chapters or so, but that's a pretty rough guess so it's entirely subject to change.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck around this long! I'm so glad that I've been able to keep entertaining you all through this meandering monster of a fic. Happy holidays to everyone who's celebrating them, and happy days to anyone who's not! And happy Eremin to all! :D


	31. Rainfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling, down, down, down... (NSFW Warning - Sexual Content)

“What are you doing out here?”

Eren blinked owlishly through the thick raindrops as Armin hurried between the tents over to where he stood, beneath what seemed to have become the unofficial guard tree. Over the past day since they’d made camp, the rain hadn’t let up for more than an hour or so at a time, and it had still been too wet and muddy to get much done. Levi had passed out bundles of rations to each tent – he was clearly displeased over having to break into their emergency supplies already, but the traps were still empty, and the few edible plants they found in the area were either too shriveled to eat, or had already been picked clean by unseen wildlife.

“What, I can’t keep my best friend company on his watch shift?” Armin replied, coming to a halt alongside him and peering up from beneath his hood.

“Officially, no.” Eren cast a pointed glance towards the officers’ tent.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said with a casual shrug. Eren gave Armin a knowing look.

“Bored?”

“How’d you guess,” Armin said wryly.

“Just a hunch. And here I thought I was the impatient one,” Eren teased.

“I guess you rubbed off on me.”

“Can’t imagine how that happened.”

They shared a small grin. The large boughs above didn’t actually do much to keep them dry with the rain coming down at an angle like it was, and Armin folded his arms beneath his already-drenched cloak. He’d slept off the exhaustion of the ride yesterday, and now he just felt restless. There wasn’t much to do in the tent, and Hurst wasn’t much of a talker. With Eren out on watch, Armin had been left to stare at the ceiling or flip through his book or take stock of their rations. But after doing so for the twentieth time, he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t mind the rain, and getting a little wet would be a small price to pay. So he’d slipped out of the tent, leaving Hurst dozing away on his bedroll.

“Seen anything interesting?” He asked Eren now. His eyes roamed over the trees, dark and heavy with moisture.

“Nope. It’s dead out here.” Eren sighed a little and shifted his weight. “I mean, that’s good for us, at least.”

Armin nodded. “I doubt anyone’s going to travel much in this kind of weather. I bet even those other hunters have probably holed up by now.”

“Probably,” Eren agreed. Then he squinted. “Wasn’t there a big storm last time we were out here, too? You know, on our survival test, before we graduated.”

Armin couldn’t help but smile a little. “I was just thinking of that test the other day,” he said. “Yeah, there was… We were lucky it held off until the last night. It was pretty bad.”

“And the shelter we built started leaking…” Eren broke off with a snort of laughter. “Remember Jean dragging himself back to base camp the next morning? He looked like a drowned rat. His group’s whole shelter fell apart.”

“I’m surprised ours didn’t, honestly. I think that was the heaviest rain I’ve ever seen in my life, it sounded like we were sitting under a waterfall.”

“It’s ‘cause you found those big rocks for us to build against,” Eren said confidently. “That was a lot more stable than the fallen tree we were originally going to use.”

Armin cast his eyes down to the muddy leaves underfoot, his cheeks warm despite the chilly air. “That wouldn’t have made a difference if the shelter had been poorly constructed,” he mumbled.

“I guess,” Eren said, a smile audible in his voice.

Armin stood in the rain, thinking back to that distant night crammed into one corner of an already tight-spaced shelter of sticks and leaves with Eren and Connie, trying to stay dry. Two steady streams of water had drizzled in from the other side of the roof, and thick cold droplets occasionally splashed down on them in their less-leaky corner, jolting Connie out of his doze.

Armin had been too nervous to sleep, listening to the thunder of rain driving down above them, interspersed with the sharp, deafening cracks of actual thunder splitting the air. What if the leaks got worse? What if their shelter came apart and they had to wait out the rest of the night in the open? What if lighting happened to strike? He didn’t know how Connie was able to sleep in a situation like this, but at the same time, Armin rather envied him for it. He wished he could be calm enough to let his brain turn off and not have to dwell on all his worries for a little while.

Eren hadn’t been sleeping either. He was wedged in the middle, and while Connie had grumbled a little about how much heat he threw, Armin was grateful for the comforting warmth. Grateful, but at the same time… pressed in against Eren’s firm side, their proximity had left Armin shivering from more than just cold. Huddled together in the dark silent bubble of tentative safety as the elements raged on the other side of a measly roof of sticks and leaves, this was somehow different from the nights they’d spent curled around each other in the aftermath of a nightmare. There was a lump in Armin’s throat and an uncomfortably persistent buzzing sensation in his chest. Like bees trapped in his ribcage. He kept his arms tucked around himself, hands pinned to his sides, both for warmth and in an unconscious effort to hide.

_Are you cold?_ Eren had asked him, his low voice finally breaking the heavy silence.

Armin shook his head. _I’m fine,_ he’d replied automatically. There was a fat, cold raindrop soaking through the shoulder of his shirt, and another one dripped mercilessly against the back of his neck. He shivered despite himself.

And then Eren’s arm was winding around his shoulders, pulling Armin even more firmly against him, and Armin couldn’t help but cave in to the touch. He let his head rest against Eren’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut. With cold, hard stone to his back and Eren’s warm body flush against his side, he’d prayed that Eren wouldn’t notice his heart pounding in time to the incessant flood above them.

Now, standing in the rain in the same woods, Armin sighed to himself. It seemed silly, looking back on it now, how nervous such little things had made him sometimes. He cast a subtle sidelong glance up at Eren beside him, taller and broader than he’d been those years ago, his profile stark against the muted gray backdrop of the trees, green eyes bright and alert. They stood close enough together that their elbows brushed. Armin’s heart seemed to stutter, and his chest tightened, the bees making their presence known. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling anymore. He took a small step to one side, closing the short distance between them. They slotted together, Armin fitting perfectly in beneath Eren’s shoulder as he leaned into him, without regard for their wet clothes.

“Are you cold?” Eren murmured. His arm slipped around Armin’s waist, snaking underneath his cloak, and Armin shivered, and smiled.

“I’m fine.”

\--

They stayed like that for the rest of Eren’s shift, chatting or falling comfortably silent by turns. Eren had to stifle a short laugh at one point, and they both froze to see whether anyone would poke their head out of their tent to investigate. But luckily, with the way the trees were growing, the tents were arranged far enough away from each other, and the rain helped muffle their voices. They only stepped apart when they saw Hurst groggily emerging to replace Eren on the watch shift. He frowned a little when he saw Armin out there too, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth commenting on as they switched out.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” Eren said as they ducked under the slight awning the rain tarp formed above their tent, wringing the water out of their cloaks.

“Of course.” Armin slipped off his shoes and socks before crawling into the tent, stowing them in the designated corner and grabbing the bag with their extra clothes. He was careful to stay on the tent floor and off the bedrolls while he was still wet. Eren sat just inside the entrance while he worked off his boots, his back to Armin.

“If we’re going to be stuck here anyway, I’d rather spend the time with you instead of sleeping all day,” Armin continued. The words fell from his mouth almost as if by their own volition. He pushed his hood back and unfastened the waterlogged cloak. It was actually pretty decent at holding back the rain, but with the length of time they’d been standing out there, it was no surprise that it had started to soak through. He tugged his damp shirt over his head, the fabric clinging to his skin.

“Me too,” Eren agreed from behind him, warmth in his voice. There was rustling, and the tent dimmed considerably as the entrance was fastened shut. Armin peeled off his pants, grateful that he wasn’t in uniform. Those pants could be a struggle to remove when they were wet. At least his underwear was still fairly dry.

He turned to put his damp clothes aside and faltered. Eren was staring, his own cloak and shirt already off. His brows were low and his gaze trailed down the length of Armin’s body, almost burning into his skin. But he blinked when he realized that Armin had frozen.

“Oh— Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Eren turned away abruptly, color rising in his cheeks.

“N-No, it’s okay,” Armin said quickly. His own face was hot and his heartbeat was racing. His side still prickled where he’d been pressed against Eren just before. “I, um… I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Eren glanced back at him, like his gaze was being tugged.

Armin nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, and then fought the urge to curl in on himself as all the old insecurities came piling back to the forefront of his mind. Too scrawny, too bony, ugly traces of old bruises and battle scars… He couldn’t stop a nervous laugh from bubbling up. “It’s nothing that impressive though.”

But Eren snorted. “Are you kidding?” His eyes flicked down again, and Armin suppressed a shiver. Eren shifted closer on the tent floor, crawling over to sit beside him. Their elbows brushed, skin against skin this time. Armin struggled to swallow.

“Your hair looks good, by the way,” Eren said softly, lifting a hand to brush his fingers through the newly-trimmed strands by Armin’s jaw.

“Thanks.” Armin chanced a glance up, his eyes catching on Eren’s firm chest and broader shoulders and the quiet intensity of his gaze. “Mikasa cut it for me.”

Eren hmmed, and then paused, his hand falling away from Armin’s hair. “Hey, d’you think she…”

“Knows?” Armin finished for him, and gave a little shrug. “Probably. With everything going on, I haven’t really found the right timing to say anything yet, though. Have you?”

Eren shook his head. “I’ve caught her giving me some smug looks, though.” He gave a wry smile. “Yeah, she probably knows.”

“We should probably still say something though.”

“Yeah. At some point.” A few moments passed in silence. Then Eren’s gaze slid back over to him. “Really though. You look good.”

Armin was blushing again. He looked down at his knees, at Eren’s hand braced against the floor between them. He could feel the heat radiating from Eren’s bare skin across the short distance. The rain drummed against the tarp above them. For a moment, Armin was back in their flimsy shelter, overwhelmed by their proximity and the way it threw his heart and body into chaos. But things were different now. He didn’t have to be afraid of that feeling anymore.

Armin placed his hand over Eren’s, and leaned into him. “I feel pretty good, too,” he murmured. He felt Eren’s breath catch slightly at the press of their bare skin, but then Eren was turning towards him, and his other hand slipped along the curve of Armin’s jaw, cupping his face and tilting it upwards.

“Good.” Eren’s voice was low, and warm like the palm of his hand. He leaned in to press their foreheads together, their noses bumping. There was a question in his dark green gaze and Armin answered it by closing his eyes and nudging upwards. And then Eren’s lips were on his.

Armin relaxed into the kiss, slow and soft in a rhythm they’d gotten pretty good at during their nights in the safehouse. But there was something different in it this time, in the way Armin’s heart was racing, in the thrill of each time Eren’s bare chest bumped against his own. Sure, in the safehouse there had been some skin contact – shirts riding up under the sheets for the inevitable brush of a hand, or sometimes another belly – but Armin had always been quick to tug his hem back down, to keep careful control of the parts of him that reveled in the touch. Maybe, even knowing Eren’s feelings, he’d been afraid of letting go of that part of himself again. Even now, with Eren’s lips pulling against his and Eren’s hand sliding through his hair to cradle the back of his neck, there was still a lingering nervousness at the back of Armin’s mind. _Don’t push him…_

But then he felt Eren’s tongue slide across his lower lip and he shuddered, opening instinctively for him. Eren licked into his mouth and Armin welcomed him, his own tongue pressing forth to greet him. The scent of the damp earth still clung to him and Armin sucked it in, feeling his nerves crumbling away. He wanted Eren, he realized, he loved him and he wanted him. And Eren was pressing further into his mouth, hand beginning to wander down Armin’s spine, fingers tense with repressed urgency, and Armin could hardly breathe with relief as he _let_ himself feel that want, without guilt or shame, for the first time.

So he caught Eren’s tongue between his teeth, sucking gently and caressing it with his own, shivering pleasantly as Eren explored his mouth, tracing the curve of his palate, withdrawing only to seal his mouth over Armin’s lips in a soft, wet kiss. Eren hummed deep in his throat as Armin pushed forward now, slipping behind his teeth and into the heat beyond. Their lips and tongues slid against each other, damp with saliva. Armin reached up, winding both arms around Eren’s shoulders, and tugged. Down they went, Armin’s back hitting the padding of his bedroll, Eren half on top of him.

But Eren pulled away, their lips separating with a wet pop. “Wait, hang on,” he said breathlessly. Even in the dim light Armin could see the heavy flush in his cheeks. “I need to get these pants off. They’re starting to itch.”

“Oh, is that all,” Armin teased with a breathy laugh.

“You’re one to talk,” Eren growled playfully, his eyes raking pointedly down the length of Armin’s body, and Armin felt himself blush to the roots of his hair.

He watched fondly as Eren struggled out of his pants, cursing a little at the wet fabric clinging insistently to his legs. Armin let his gaze wander freely over the slope of his back and the muscles shifting in his shoulderblades, the damp hair sticking to the back of his neck. His eyes followed the dip of Eren’s spine down until it disappeared into the hem of his underwear, fitted neatly around the curve of his ass…

Eren turned, finally rid of the stubborn garment, and Armin caught a brief glimpse of the fabric pulled tight before Eren was above him.

“Hold on for a second,” he said, and Armin gladly wrapped his arms around Eren’s shoulders again. His breath caught as Eren’s hands trailed down his sides and then looped around him, one arm braced around Armin’s waist and the other just below his ass. Armin felt the muscles beneath his touch tense, and then he was being lifted, just enough to shift both of them up so they were fully on the bedroll.

Eren stretched out alongside him, and Armin turned onto his side so they were fully facing each other. He let his hands slip down over the front of Eren’s shoulders, over his chest, palms grazing over hard nipples and the firm ridges of muscle along his ribcage. He couldn’t take his eyes off the rapid flutter of the pulse in Eren’s throat, the pink flush in his parted lips where Armin’s mouth had been a few moments ago. Then Eren’s grip tightened around his waist and they both sucked in a breath in unison as their bodies pressed flush together.

“Okay?” Eren asked, sounding a little strained. Armin leaned up to capture his lips again in response. He could feel Eren’s heart thudding hard against his chest, its pace a mirror of his own. He could feel their skin sticking slightly in the residual dampness of the rain. He could feel Eren’s ribs and stomach expand as he took breaths between their kisses, feel the little twitches in his skin as Armin stroked his sides, his back. And lower down…

Eren shifted suddenly and Armin choked a gasp against his lips as Eren’s thigh pressed between his legs. He arched instinctively into it, pushing back against Eren’s hips and feeling heat and firmness. Eren shivered and moaned, the sound seeming to travel through Armin’s lips and over his tongue and down into his throat. But he clamped his mouth shut before he could echo it.

Eren pushed against him again, palm flat against the small of Armin’s back. Armin squeezed his eyes shut against the rush of pleasure spiking through his body, the heat prickling in his skin, creeping up through his mind and making it hard to think. Even more so when Eren’s mouth wandered down his jaw to his neck, leaving openmouthed kisses that almost seemed to sear into the sensitive skin there. Then teeth grazed his throat, and Armin’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle his strangled moan.

Eren lifted his head to look at him, reaching up to gently tug Armin’s wrist away. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and a little husky. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna hear us.” His grip slid up to grasp Armin’s palm and he tucked their clasped hands reassuringly between their bodies.

Armin gazed back at him. His mind flickered back to the trees, the spacing of the tents, the constant drumbeats of the rain – there should be no need to be silent. He already knew that. He stared into green eyes, dark and intent, pupils wide, perfectly open and honest. How many times had those eyes seen him crying? How many times had he seen them crying? There had never been a place for pride between the two of them, Armin realized. Least of all now.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he said, letting his expression relax into a smile. He leaned in to nip gently at Eren’s lower lip, drawing in a shuddering breath as Eren explored his body. The warm pad of his thumb grazed along Armin’s collarbone before his hand slipped down, palming over the flat planes of his chest. Armin couldn’t help but whimper as fingers caught on his nipple, toying briefly with the stiff flesh.

Eren gave a low, breathy laugh as Armin squirmed. “Last time,” he said, “last time I couldn’t really… touch you, you know? Like…” Eren paused to get his thoughts together, and Armin watched in fascination as his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Everything happened so fast, and I couldn’t believe it was happening at all, and you were so… It was like, all I could do was just. Hold on.”

Armin blushed harder. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but Eren shook his head.

“Don’t be,” he said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, it was _really_ good. I wanna make you feel that way, too.” His eyes trailed down Armin’s lips, and over his throat, and down into the space between them. Then they returned to meet Armin’s gaze. “Right now, though… maybe let’s just take our time.”

“That sounds good,” Armin murmured. He shivered as Eren’s fingers slipped down his sternum to trace the edge of his ribcage. And when Eren pressed close again, when their legs tangled and their breath mingled and hands tugged at waistbands, Armin let his voice flow and blend with Eren’s.

\--

Eren’s skin was hot against his own, and damp and a little sticky with sweat, but Armin couldn’t bring himself to move from his arms. His eyelids were growing heavy as Eren’s fingers stroked a slow, soothing rhythm through his hair.

“What is it?” Armin asked sleepily. Eren was giving an odd smile, distant and almost amused, like he was looking back through time.

“Remember that flower field?” Eren replied. “The one we found on our last day off.”

Armin nodded, blinking a little at the topic that seemed rather out of the blue. “What about it?”

“It’s just funny,” Eren said. “When I was there that time as a kid, I ended up picking a whole bouquet to bring back. We didn’t have those kinds of flowers in Shiganshina, I was so excited to show them to you.” He gave a sheepish chuckle and shook his head. “But I got into a stupid argument on the way home, and accidentally dropped them in a mud puddle. I was so mad at myself…”

“You never told me about that,” Armin said, lifting his head a little in surprise. But he couldn’t help smiling, warmth blossoming in his chest all over again.

“I was too embarrassed,” Eren admitted. His fingers threaded through Armin’s hair and trailed down to the base of his neck. “I’m glad you got to see it for yourself,” he said softly.

“Me too,” Armin murmured. He leaned in to close the distance between them again, and Eren welcomed his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone, have some pseudo-smut! :D


	32. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survey Corps team enacts their plan to get into Jalrut.

“Anything?” Eren asked anxiously from nearby.

“Not yet.” Armin replied patiently, but he shifted uncomfortably where he lay against the thick tree branch. There was a knot jutting painfully against his ribs and his neck was beginning to cramp, but he kept the spyglass pressed dutifully to his eye. He peered through the gap in the foliage down the long, uneven road. But nothing was coming.

“Figures,” Eren muttered. “They stop coming right when we need ‘em.”

The rain had finally given way to a dry, dusty heat, and they had reached the outskirts of Jalrut yesterday. Much like the Survey Corps base, however, the woods stopped a good ways away from the actual town to leave room for the crop fields, and there was only one road leading in. They may have arrived, but now they needed to get in without looking overtly suspicious.

They’d noticed something odd, though, as they scoped the place out. Traffic. A number of wagons had been coming and going along the unkempt road.

“Didn’t you say this place was a poor agricultural town?” Armin had asked Levi as they watched the third wagon within two hours go by through the trees. “This can’t be their normal trade schedule.”

Levi had frowned, shaking his head. “No… something else must be going on. This could be bad.”

So they’d gathered to discuss their options. The Military Police shouldn’t know that they were coming here, but they couldn’t rule out the possibility that the interior was taking precautions just in case. It made it all the more crucial for the Survey Corps to slip in unrecognized. What they really needed was information – but even the nearby towns were still too far out of the way. Jalrut certainly was remote.

So now here they were, concealed in the foliage at points around a section of the road into Jalrut, far enough out that the town itself was still hidden from view around the final fringe of forest. Armin kept watch, ready to give the signal at any time should he spot the distant shape of an approaching wagon. Eren perched beside him, on standby and trying not to fidget. Everyone else was too well-hidden at their respective stations for him to see. Across the road lay a dead tree, brittle and only just starting to rot – light enough for two or three people to move without much trouble, but big enough to force a wagon to a halt.

…Provided another wagon came by, anyway, and in the right direction. They’d already had to hurriedly move the tree out of the way for a wagon coming out of Jalrut before the driver saw it. The pessimistic part of Armin’s mind wondered if whatever deliveries had been going in or out had finished just as they’d gotten set up. There was also the matter of needing the right conditions – not just any wagon would do. A local one might be recognized in town, which would blow their cover immediately. And if they were Military Police wagons… that brought a whole host of problems and potential risks.

Armin suddenly felt a warm hand on the back of his shoulder. Eren didn’t say anything, but the press of his fingertips tracing restless little patterns against the skin through the shirt said enough.

Armin breathed out. “We’ll manage somehow,” he murmured, to reassure them both. “We always do.” He allowed himself to glance away from the spyglass for just a moment, let his gaze catch on the bright green eyes staring back at him. Feeling some of the tension in his muscles easing, Armin turned back to his task. Then drew in a sharp breath.

There, way off in the distance, was the shape of an approaching wagon.

Armin whistled the signal, and all at once there was a change. Eren dropped into a lower branch, ready to provide backup if necessary. Armin lowered the spyglass. He still couldn’t see anyone else, but the atmosphere was different now, stretched thin and just waiting to snap.

And waiting… and waiting. The wagon gradually grew larger and larger, and eventually they could hear the rattle of the wheels as it trundled down the road, clouds of dust billowing out behind it.

Finally, it rounded the bend. The driver saw the fallen tree and yanked hard on the reins, swearing.

Through the gaps in the leaves, Armin could see that the driver was a sallow-faced woman who looked to be somewhere in her thirties. She had a sharp, shrewd stare which immediately snapped around the surrounding trees, and when she reached around behind her, her hands came back with a shotgun.

“What happened?” Two more people emerged from the back of the wagon, a man and another woman, both equally wary. They saw the tree and tensed, their hands disappearing into their cloaks. Armin’s heart beat a nervous rhythm in his chest. He kept as still and silent as possible.

The driver stood up on her platform and glared around. “I know yer out there,” she called, her voice ringing off the trees. “We done what y’asked us for. Now let us go collect our pay.”

Silence dragged out for a long minute. Nobody moved. Armin hardly even dared to breathe – who did she think was lurking in the woods?

Finally, the driver turned to her companions and jerked her head towards the fallen tree. They obeyed silently, hurrying forward to either end and preparing to lift. The driver stayed firmly planted on her platform, not lowering her guard.

And then there was a rustling sound, and all three of them snapped back into their defensive stance.

“Hey there!” Called a voice. “Is there some trouble? I heard ya callin’…” The voice trailed off as Sasha stepped onto the road and saw the three figures poised to attack. She threw her hands up. “Woah, easy…”

From his vantage point, Armin watched the travelers’ eyes dart over Sasha, sizing her up as a threat. She had her bow and quiver slung on her back, and carried the limp body of a scrawny duck she’d managed to catch earlier.

“Who are you?” The driver demanded, glaring her down. “I ain’t seen you ‘round here before.”

Armin relaxed ever so slightly. They were locals – which meant there was no need to try and fight them. He had no doubt that Mikasa and Levi alone would be able to take them, but seeing how on-edge this group was, it could get messy.

“I’m a hunter come down from Stalhark,” Sasha said, giving them the story the Survey Corps had come up with beforehand. “Game’s been gettin’ kinda scarce as of late… been havin’ to go further and further from home. Then again,” she held up the pitiful duck with a sigh. “The forest’s seemin’ kinda bare ‘round here, too.”

That part was true. Even back in Tohlridge, they had been hard-pressed to find any game. And the forests around Jalrut were almost eerily quiet. Frowning, Sasha had noted the bareness of so many of the plants, and worried about the possibility of an oncoming blight.

“I wouldn’t know ‘bout that,” the driver said curtly. “We grow our own food here in Jalrut.” Something dark flitted across her expression as she spoke, but she just pressed her lips together and continued, still eyeing Sasha suspiciously. “We got no quarrel with you. You just stand back, now.”

“Sure ya don’t want some help with that?” Sasha asked, nodding at the tree and making to set her quiver down. But the driver barked,

“No! You keep yer distance, and hands offa that bow.” She gestured with the shotgun for emphasis, her finger hovering over the trigger.

“O-Okay then,” Sasha stammered, hands back in the air. “Yes ma’am, my apologies!”

The driver cut a sharp glance to her companions, and they began to haul the dead tree off the road. She didn’t leave the wagon platform herself and remained poised, her alert gaze tirelessly scanning the wall of trees, and never straying far from Sasha.

Armin remembered belatedly that he should still be watching, too. He hurriedly brought the spyglass back to his eye and suppressed the urge to swear, because there was another wagon coming – and it was already well along the road. He urgently whistled the signal. It sounded absurdly loud in the silence, and the driver tensed, her companions freezing momentarily. But when nothing happened they continued dragging the tree out of the way, content to think it a normal birdcall. Armin glanced between them and the ever-approaching wagon, silently willing them to hurry. If they missed this one, who knew how much longer they may be stuck out here, waiting?

After what felt like an eternity, the silent duo brushed their hands off and leapt back into the wagon.

“Be on yer way, now,” the driver said curtly to Sasha, who nodded meekly and disappeared back into the trees. The driver wasted no time in spurring the horses forward, kicking up a big cloud of dust as the wagon lurched forward and rattled away, bouncing violently against the many ruts in the road.

No sooner had they passed out of sight around the bend than three spry figures leapt from the trees, almost seeming to appear out of nowhere. Mikasa, Sasha, and Hurst darted out to replace the tree across the road, Mikasa lifting one end easily on her own while Sasha and Hurst hefted the other side together. The clatter of the first wagon had only just faded away and already they could hear the second one almost upon them. Armin held his breath, twisting the spyglass in his clenched hands – the wagon was practically at the curve – the tree thunked back onto the dusty road—

The soldiers had just barely escaped back to their places when the new wagon rounded the bend and wheeled to a slightly skewed stop.

“Woah, woah!” The driver soothed the disgruntled horses, looking at the tree with a perplexed frown. This driver was a man, not much older than Armin and his friends, with the beginnings of a beard that hadn’t quite grown in all the way but looked meticulously cared for. His clothes weren’t gaudy, but they weren’t shabby, either – between that and his wide-eyed demeanor, there was already a stark difference between him and the other wagon’s driver.

“Mira,” the man called, scratching at the back of his neck. “We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

A woman emerged, dressed in a similar fashion and gripping a rifle in a nervous way that showed it wasn’t something she was used to handling. She stared at the tree for a moment, and then looked silently to the man.

“For Sina’s sake, this road needs better upkeep,” he sighed, and climbed down from the driver’s platform. “C’mon, we’ll just have to move it.”

Armin made sure to keep one eye on the wagon and the other on the road, but so far the coast was clear. As the woman was following the driver down from the wagon, Sasha made her entrance.

“Hey there!” Sasha called with a friendly wave. The woman’s grip on the rifle tightened slightly, but the man waved back. “I heard ya callin’, got some trouble?” She made a show of noticing the fallen tree. “Oh. Yeah, that’s some trouble. Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Why, sure!” The man agreed brightly. “That’d be a great help. We’re lucky you came by – you a local?”

It was what they’d been waiting to hear. If Sasha felt the same tense thrill that Armin did, she didn’t show it. “Yup,” she said easily. “We don’t get too many visitors ‘round here.”

“I can see that,” the man replied with a pointed glance at the ground. “You ought to talk to your officials about fixing up this road. I’ve got half a mind to tell them myself…”

He rambled on and Sasha nodded along, setting down her bow and quiver and duck and following him towards the tree. The woman relaxed considerably once Sasha’s weapons were down, and placed the rifle on the driver’s platform before she turned to help, too.

But the moment both their backs were turned to the wagon, the Survey Corps struck. Mikasa and Levi swooped soundlessly in from their hiding spots. They got the woman first, plunging a cloth bag over her head and yanking her hands behind her back to tie them. She barely had time to struggle, but she let out a brief cry of shock before Mikasa clamped a hand over her mouth through the fabric. Armin found himself flinching, his gut twisting sympathetically. But he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and kept careful control of his breathing.

“Mira?” The man started to turn, but beside him Sasha swiftly swept her foot out, knocking his legs out from under him. He fell spluttering into the dust, and she and Levi had him bagged and bound in another second.

The pair struggled feebly as they were dragged off the road and into the trees. Armin signaled their success and finally abandoned his uncomfortable hiding spot, scrambling awkwardly down the branches. Eren was waiting for him on the ground, and together they hurried to where the prisoners had been taken, momentarily crossing paths with Hurst and Rook as they rushed by leading two of their own horses. Armin seamlessly passed the spyglass off to Hurst as he went by.

Hanji and Levi were crouched by the prisoners, who had been pushed into a sitting position against the base of a tree. Sasha stood nearby, smearing her face and clothes with dirt, while Mikasa swept a few items from a supply pack into a smaller bag. Levi glanced up upon hearing Armin and Eren’s approach, and flicked his eyes meaningfully. They nodded silently and followed Sasha’s lead, scooping up handfuls of cool, dry dirt.

It didn’t stick very well, though. Armin glanced over to see Eren grimacing as he tried to scrub it into his skin, and a thought occurred to him. He waved to get Mikasa’s attention and mimed a gesture, and she understood and tossed him a waterskin. Armin nodded his thanks and spilled some of its contents into the dirt. The water pearled on its surface before beginning to soak in, and Armin raked his fingers through it to help it along. Eren wrinkled his nose, but he grit his teeth and scooped up some mud. It had to be done. Armin caught Sasha’s eye and she nodded, reaching out to catch the waterskin as he tossed it over to her now.

“…Anything, please, I have money, I have wares,” the man was begging, his voice muffled by the hood. The woman was silent and rigid beside him. “Take whatever you want, take all of it, just please, leave us with our lives, and a horse to get us home, that’s all I ask…”

“Quiet,” Levi snapped, and the man flinched, and obeyed. “Listen up. We’re going to borrow your wagon for a while. But we’re not thieves. You’ll get it back, and whatever money you were promised. And you won’t be harmed.” He paused for a moment to let this sink in, and Armin could sense the pair’s confusion even without seeing their faces.

“Now tell me what you’re delivering,” Levi continued, “and who you’re delivering it to.”

The man stammered before he found his voice again, like a rusty gear grinding into action. “W-We’re delivering ceramics,” he finally managed. “To a fellow called Sotts, Digley Sotts…”

“What’s the address?”

“It’s written in the ledger in my bag… I-In the front of the wagon.”

Levi glanced at Mikasa, who was gone almost before Armin had time to blink.

Hanji spoke now. “Was there anything unusual about this order?” They asked, voice low and serious.

“U-Unusual?” The man squeaked. “N-No, I… I mean, I suppose we never expected to get such a large order so far from Sina… It’s my first big delivery, I’ve never traveled this far before…”

“That much is obvious,” Levi muttered under his breath. But suddenly Mikasa was back, and she wordlessly handed him a sheet of paper. His eyes narrowed as he scanned it over. “Last question,” he barked, and the duo flinched again. “Is Sotts expecting you specifically?”

“N-No sir,” the man answered. “I’ve never heard of him.”

Levi stood up. “Good.” He turned to Eren, Armin, and Sasha, now looking like they’d crawled out of a mud pit, and Mikasa beside them. “Ready?” The four of them nodded. Levi looked to Hanji next. They nodded too, expression firm.

“Then get moving,” Levi ordered. “We don’t have time to waste.” He looked fidgety, like he hated to be left behind. But he was too high-profile, and someone would need to help Hurst guard the captives. He locked eyes with Hanji, and a silent conversation seemed to pass between them.

“C’mon,” Hanji gestured as they strode off toward the road, and everyone but Levi and the captives followed. The tree had already been moved off the path, for good this time. Hurst was leading the captives’ nervous horses away, and Rook poked her head out of the back of the wagon.

“Squad Leader,” she called. “You should come see this.” She hopped to the ground as they approached, holding something. It was a huge dinner platter, but it was nothing like the plain, crude ones they had back at base, or even the nicer ones back at the safehouse, stately and well-kept. This one was positively luxurious, stained in a glaze of white and pale blue with an elegant floral design twining around the raised edge of the platter, then winding inwards to bloom in the center. The polished coating gleamed in the sunlight.

“There are crates and crates of similar things in there,” Rook said, sounding slightly mystified. “What do you suppose…?”

“No clue.” Hanji blinked, equally perplexed as they took the platter and turned it over in their hands. “This is beautiful work… A town like Jalrut shouldn’t have the money or the need for stuff like this.” But they shook their head, handing it back. “It doesn’t matter for now, though. It’s our way in.”

Rook nodded. “We damaged one of the axles, like you ordered.”

“Good.” Hanji turned to Eren, Sasha, and Armin, nodding in approval at their dirty forms. “Ooh, nice touch with the mud! I barely recognize you. Okay, hands up.”

They obeyed, and Hanji went to each of them in turn, tying their wrists together with the ends of three lengths of long rope – securely, but not too tight. “Listen,” Hanji said seriously as they fastened the other end of each rope to the back of the wagon. “You need to look like real prisoners, so I can’t slow down for you if you can’t keep up. So, keep up, okay?” They punctuated this with a wide grin, but it was stretched just a little too thin to be comforting.

Armin shifted a little. “Squad Leader,” he said politely, “is it really safe for you to go right up front? What if you’re recognized?”

Hanji shrugged, their expression wry. “Yeah, there’s nothing ideal about this situation. But at least I’m not as well-known as Levi. Plus!” They reached up and tugged off their glasses, then shook their hair out of its characteristic ponytail. It fell mane-like over their shoulders, and Hanji drew themself up to full height, adopting a haughty, humorless expression and looking down their nose. “You don’t always need a complicated disguise to have an _effective_ disguise.” They already gave a very different impression – so different that Armin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. But then Hanji frowned and squinted. “Rook, you’re gonna have to drive. I can’t see shit.” They nearly bumped into the wagon when they turned, and felt their way along it as they made their way to the front.

Armin took a deep breath. Sensing his nerves, Eren turned to him. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low and firm. “We’ll make it. We’re gonna find out what they’re hiding.” Through the dirt smeared over his face and matting his hair, Armin watched Eren’s eyes glinting with his own anxiousness, but also with that fierce determination they always got before a mission, that restless energy of having a goal and burning to reach it. And just like always, some of the doubt and fear pounding in Armin’s chest melted away.

“Yeah. We will.” Armin firmly held his gaze and nodded, and watched Eren relax a little in turn. Then he allowed himself to crack a tiny smile. “The MPs will never live down being outsmarted by some mud monsters,” he said, and was gratified to see Eren break into a grin.

“Ugh, do you two ever stop flirting?” Sasha interrupted, sounding half-exasperated. She was busy shaking her legs out in preparation. “This isn’t gonna be some walk in the park, you know.”

Eren shot her a brief glare, and Armin was glad that the dirt would mask the blush creeping up his cheeks. But he took a deep breath – the worst of his nerves had dissipated. He was ready to do this.

Mikasa looked torn somewhere between amusement and worry. She settled on the latter, her anxious gaze passing over the three of them as she wrapped her scarf around her lower face and tugged the hood of her cloak up so that only her eyes were exposed, and even those were in shadow. She was holding the woman’s rifle against her shoulder. “I’ll be watching you from the back,” she told them. “If you’re actually in danger, signal me. I’ll make them slow down.”

Armin didn’t have time to worry about her wording before Hanji’s call rang out from the front of the wagon. It began to roll forward and Mikasa hopped nimbly into the back, disappearing behind the canvas flaps. The rope binding Armin’s wrists to the wagon began to lose its slack, and dust began to puff up beneath the wheels, clinging to his shoes as it wafted past his legs. And then they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry for the late update! I got a surprise work assignment that sucked away my spare energy for a while and then my wonderful beta reader took a trip, so it was just a case of bad timing. Hopefully the updates will go smoothly from here on! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this return to the plot!


	33. Jalrut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin and the others reach the town marked on the map left by his parents.

Armin had already lost track of how long they’d been running. It couldn’t have been long, it couldn’t be more than three miles to town, but it felt like an excruciating eternity. He could barely keep his eyes open, barely breathe in the suffocating cloud of dust kicked up by the wagon half-dragging them along. The inside of his mouth was caked and dry, his nose and eyes and lungs burned. He couldn’t see anything but dust, couldn’t hear anything but the thunder of the cart wheels and the occasional ragged gasp of Eren and Sasha nearby. The back wheel rattled violently, and Armin couldn’t shake the fear that the axle had been damaged too much, and any moment the wheel would unhinge and plow them over. The sun beat down without a care for his exertion, but his sweat brought no relief under the layers of grime. But the incessant chafe of the rope against his wrists and the ache in his shoulder sockets told him to keep going, and keep up.

It was only when the wagon slowed and then finally stopped that he knew they had reached Jalrut.

The dust finally settled. Armin resisted the urge to collapse as he alternated between hacking coughs and sucking in clean air. He could hear that Eren and Sasha were in a similar state, and when he managed to rub some of the dirt and tears out of his eyes, he could see it, too. They were practically unrecognizable, covered in dirt and caked in sweat and road dust, clothes rumpled and hair matted into clumps.

“…seems in order,” Armin became aware of someone saying. He looked around and realized they were at a checkpoint at the entrance to town – a rickety hut had been built by the side of the road, and beyond that he could see shabby buildings beginning where the crop fields ended. A man and a woman were standing languidly by the front of the wagon, checking over the ledger Hanji had handed them. The woman glanced over at the three figures bound to the back of the wagon.

“And who’re those?” She asked, looking intrigued in a way that made Armin’s skin prickle uncomfortably.

“Thieves.” Hanji’s haughty voice drifted back. “Tried to rob us while we were stopped.” Armin, Eren, and Sasha didn’t have to pretend to look miserable.

The woman nodded in understanding. “We can take ‘em off your hands for ya… We got places we could put ‘em.” She leered unpleasantly, but Hanji shook their head.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got someplace in mind for them back home.” They cast a withering glare towards the back of the wagon, and Armin felt a shiver of discomfort at their uncharacteristically cold expression. “They’re going to regret the day they ever crossed my path.”

The woman looked slightly disappointed, but she just shrugged. “Well, they’re your catch… You can go on through. Place you want’s the center of town. Can’t miss it.” She started to step back to let them pass.

“Hold on,” Hanji said. “The little rats damaged one of our axles. We’ll need somewhere to stay the night while we get it fixed. Know anyplace?”

“We ain’t really got much need for inns here,” the woman said, a hint of wariness entering her tone. She gestured to the man, who stooped to peer under the wagon.

“Yep,” he called back. “It’s barely holdin’ together… Lucky you made it all the way here ‘fore it gave out.”

“Is my word not good enough?” Hanji asked coldly, eyes narrowing.

“Well, y’know how it is,” the woman said evenly. “There’s all kinds of people ‘round these parts, and a lot of ‘em are up to no good. Or maybe you wouldn’t know that, since yer from the interior. You _rich_ folk don’t gotta scrape by like we do.” Her gaze flicked pointedly down to the coin purse on Hanji’s hip.

“Hmph.” Hanji cracked a brief, thin smile. “Is that what this is all about?” Not breaking eye contact, they reached into the satchel and counted out a few coins, pressing them into the woman’s hand.

“A place to stay, was it?” She considered, pocketing the money with a smug look. “Yeah, you might find that ‘round at Ker’s. Her place’s right ‘round the corner from where yer goin’, just look for the weathervane.”

Hanji nodded briskly. The transaction finished, they stepped back up onto the driver’s platform, and Rook spurred on the horses again as the guards waved them through the checkpoint. The damaged wheel still rattled dangerously, but the pace was much slower this time, to Armin’s relief.

The streets of Jalrut were busier than he had expected from such a small town. Buildings were crammed in around the narrow road, most in disrepair. But people bustled through the streets carrying baskets of newly-harvested wheat or beans or other crops, or buckets of water, or armfuls of plywood and tools. The sound of hammers in the distance put Armin on-edge. Tired, deep-set eyes passed incuriously over the exhausted “captives” plodding along behind the wagon before returning to their tasks without a second glance. The most attention the three of them got was from a small cluster of filthy children, who gawked and jeered until a nearby adult yelled for them to get back to work, and they scattered like flies.

Over the shabby, half-rotted rooftops, Armin could see a domed structure rising a few floors above everything else. It was markedly different from all the other buildings, not only by the decorative architecture, but also by the fact that it was much better-kept. It was still a little worn-down, with a few missing shingles here and there and a boarded-up window on one of the higher floors. But the other windows had actual glass in them, and even from a distance he could see that the building’s trimming had gotten a fresh coat of paint recently. Eren saw it too, and they shared a glance – that must be where they were headed.

As they approached, they saw that the tower comprised only the tallest part of a wider building. And interestingly enough, Armin noticed, many of the people on the street seemed to be headed there, too. A few people dressed a little nicer than the rest stood out front, barking orders at the townsfolk who approached with their crops or tools and directing them into or around the stately building.

“We’ve got a delivery for Sotts,” Hanji said coolly as they pulled to a stop before the stone steps leading up to the tower’s entrance. One of the official-looking men stepped over and asked to see their documents. Despite himself, Armin was impressed by Hanji’s confidence – if the Military Police were anywhere, it would be here. He looked around nervously, but nobody was paying them much attention.

“I don’t see any uniforms,” Eren muttered, keeping his head down and his voice low enough that only Armin and Sasha, standing close beside him, could hear.

Sasha shook her head. “They’re not supposed to be stationed here, remember?” She said. “The uniforms would just give them away.”

“But would you really be surprised if they wanted to flaunt their status anyway?” Eren asked wryly.

“I guess it depends on how overconfident they are,” Armin replied. “And on whether or not they expect us to have made it here…”

Eren’s gaze shifted up to the big stone building. “D’you think this could be it, then?” He asked, and neither of them needed to ask what he meant.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Armin glanced around to double-check that they couldn’t be overheard, but the air was filled with the noises of work and nobody, it seemed, had the time to loiter around. “A place like this would be easy to find an excuse to guard. It’s probably the main hub for any important people in town, so there’s nothing suspicious about them gathering here. Whoever’s in charge here has got to be in on it, if they’re not an MP themselves then they’re probably at least taking bribes…”

The man finished looking over the ledger that Hanji had presented once again. Hanji nodded at whatever was said, and they pulled the wagon around the building to a side entrance. Hanji gestured to Rook and called something to Mikasa, and they began the process of unloading the heavy crates. Hanji and Rook hauled them inside one-by-one while Mikasa sat on the back edge of the wagon to guard the “prisoners”, half-shadowed by the tarp and looking menacing with the rifle on her shoulder.

Unloading took a long time with just two people working on it. Those of them stuck out by the wagon could only wait, and see what information they might glean from passersby.

“…running out of time,” said the man Hanji had talked to, wearing a scowl as he and his partner crossed the courtyard to meet another wagon that had just pulled up. “We’ll be done for if we can’t get everything ready…”

“They’re bleedin’ us dry,” grumbled a scrawny, dirt-covered youth to an older woman beside him. They both wore filthy, shabby clothes and pushed rickety wheelbarrows full of grain. “What’re we s’posed to do, do a little song ‘n dance for ‘em while they eat our harvest an’ we starve to death?”

The woman hushed him sharply. “You don’t wanna be heard talkin’ like that,” she told him with a pointed glance towards the men by the tower. “Jus’ grin an’ bear it for now, it’s not much longer…”

“What do you think’s going on?” Sasha asked quietly. “Do you think this could have something to do with us?”

“They should be way more on-guard if that was the case,” Eren said with a frown. Armin nodded his agreement.

“They wouldn’t be preparing such a nice welcome for us,” Mikasa said, her low voice muffled through her scarf, and when they looked at her, she nodded subtly in the direction of the new wagon. When they turned to look, they saw the driver proudly presenting a set of beautifully-embroidered drapes to the men checking his ledger. The men nodded and said something, and the driver packed the drapes back into the crate and led the wagon over to another entrance to unload.

“Something’s definitely happening here,” Armin murmured. “The question is, will that be a good thing or a bad thing for us?”

None of them could hazard a guess.

\--

The sky was beginning to darken by the time all the ceramics crates had finally been brought in. One of the men handed Hanji a sizeable pouch of coins, and then the group was off to find a roof for the night. The place wasn’t difficult to find, thanks to the information they’d gotten from the checkpoint. The old weathervane was easy to spot, jutting out over a few rows of houses. Despite his exhaustion and hunger, Armin kept his eyes on the surroundings, memorizing their path and watching for any sign that they’d raised suspicion.

The weathervane, it turned out, was attached to the roof of an old, modified barn. Part of it had been converted into a set of stables, with a rickety wagon parked in a storage space beyond, and the rest looked like it was being used as a living space – Armin could see shabby curtains in a window, and the dull flicker of candlelight beyond. There were already two horses occupying the stables, filling two of the five stalls. A figure stood outside, raking in stray bits of hay that had scattered onto the road. As their wagon rattled closer she turned to look, and Armin felt an unpleasant jolt as he saw her face.

It was the driver of the local wagon they’d intercepted earlier.

If Hanji was ruffled by this, they didn’t show it. “I heard I might find room and board at Ker’s,” they told her, uncharacteristically impassive.

The woman leaned the rake against the wall and brushed off her hands, regarding them with a narrow-eyed stare. “You might’ve heard right,” she said curtly. “How much ya got?”

“Enough to cover space in your stables and a room with a bed or two, I hope.”

“We might be able to arrange that. But yer wagon’ll have to stay outside, ‘round back. No room. Let’s see it, then.”

Hanji alighted from the wagon with the bag of coins to negotiate. The woman’s gaze flicked calculatingly over them, the two horses, Rook up on the driver’s platform, and Mikasa beyond the open tarp. But then her eyes landed on the three figures bound to the back, and her expression hardened.

“Now hold up,” she said, and Hanji paused and looked at her coolly. “You didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout those three. I won’t be puttin’ up outlaws in my own house, even if I did have room for it.”

“Oh, them?” Hanji brushed it off, going back to counting coins into their hand. “They can sleep in the muck with the horses.” Before the woman could reply, they continued, “I’ll leave one of my own to stand guard. I’ve got big plans for them for later… I can’t have them running off.” They looked back with a leer strikingly similar to the one the woman at the checkpoint had worn, and Armin couldn’t suppress a shudder.

The woman was unmoved, though. She stepped closer to scrutinize them. Sasha huddled into herself, her back rigid, head ducked down as far as it could go. Eren glared back defiantly, but Armin couldn’t help keeping his own head down, as if she might recognize him, too, even though he’d been hidden in a tree during their attempted ambush. He watched out of the edge of his vision as her hard eyes passed over him and Eren, and paused on Sasha. He found himself holding his breath. The dirt and dust caked onto them suddenly felt like all too feeble a disguise, especially under the intensity of this woman’s piercing, suspicious gaze…

But then she gave a contemptuous snort and turned away. “Y’realize I’m gonna charge extra for this.”

Armin could barely contain his sigh of relief as she and Hanji began to haggle. He caught Sasha’s eye and they shared a grimace, and Armin thought she looked a little pale beneath the dirt.

\--

Mikasa was chosen for guard duty, and she quietly filled them in on the plan after Hanji, Rook, and the woman – who turned out to be Ker herself – had gone into the main house.

“Once all the lights go out, we’ll sneak away and go back to that tower,” she explained in a whisper as they shared the rations they’d brought with them. “Hanji said they found a basement staircase while they were poking around between trips. They had Rook jam the lock to the side door before we left. We’ll check there, and come back to report our findings. Preferably before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

“Wait, so if we find the tunnel, we’re just gonna leave it?” Eren asked with a frown.

“Are you saying you’d prefer to charge headfirst into unknown enemy territory without any backup?” Sasha raised an eyebrow, then cracked a smirk. “Actually, that does sound like you.”

“Well, no, but…” Eren huffed and fidgeted. “What if we lose our chance? There’s no guarantee we’ll be able to get in again without getting caught.”

“I know how you feel,” Armin sighed. “But we need to stay coordinated at times like this. We can’t afford to get trapped.”

They fell silent, a nervous tension settling over them. Darkness fell in earnest and the streets cleared, the sounds of work fading into an eerie silence. Doors were locked and windows were shuttered, and one by one the houses darkened as candles were snuffed. All Armin could hear was a faint strain of raucous laughter in the distance – from a tavern, he guessed. The old weathervane creaked with age somewhere above them as it swung in the breeze. But otherwise, the streets had gone quiet as death. A shiver ran up his spine.

“Alright,” Mikasa whispered finally. “Let’s go.” She untied them from the post they’d been fastened to and tossed them their cloaks, and the four hooded figures slipped quietly over the stall gate and out into the street.

It was a clear night, and the stars provided just barely enough light to see by. They crept along the edges of the street, close to the houses, trying to make as little noise as possible.

It turned out that the streets weren’t as dead as they’d first seemed, though. More than once they had to duck down a narrow alleyway to avoid other hooded figures – some alone, others in twos or threes, some silent and prowling and others carrying lanterns laughing harshly at something unpleasant. Armin’s stomach churned as one such group passed by their shadowed hiding spot. He knew now why the other residents had been so quick to disappear inside their homes.

It was only a few blocks, but it felt like an eternity before they finally reached the tower. There were still lights flickering in some of the upper windows – clearly, they didn’t fear the nighttime prowlers. After all, if they had military strength, why would they?

Oddly enough, though, when they peeked around the corner, figures who were presumably supposed to be guarding the doors were grouped up near one corner of the building, chatting. They looked quite casual, their rifles propped loosely against their shoulders or even resting against the wall of the building.

“That’s lazy even by MP standards,” Eren muttered.

“Good for us, though.” Armin scanned the layout. “Still, we'll need to cross open space to get to the building. And the guards still have line of sight on both the main entrance and the side door…”

“Then all we gotta do is distract them,” Sasha said, casting about. She stooped down and Armin could see her shadow feeling around on the ground. Her hands found a stone and she hefted it in her palm, testing its weight. Satisfied, she started to stand, but then she paused and collected a handful of pebbles as an afterthought, which she tucked into her pocket as she got back to her feet.

Sasha held the stone out to Mikasa. “Wanna do the honors?”

Mikasa nodded, and accepted it. “Go for the side door once their backs are turned,” she told them in a whisper, and they nodded. Then she stepped partway out of their hiding place, wound back, and flung the stone.

It rocketed out of her hand and sailed clear across the courtyard, well over the heads of the oblivious guards. It crashed into something Armin couldn’t see with a huge clatter, followed by the sound of something heavy falling over. The guards jumped, grabbing for their rifles and rushing towards the source of the sound, leaving the path to the side door wide open.

“Who’s there?” Armin heard one of the guards demanding as they darted silently across the courtyard.

“Probably those damn cats again,” another one spat, but then the side door closed behind them and the voices cut off.

They found themselves in a dark, silent hallway. They were still for a few moments, listening, but they heard no sign of people nearby.

“Any idea where we need to go?” Armin asked in a whisper.

“Hanji drew a rough map for me earlier,” replied the shadowy figure that was Mikasa. “I remember it well enough. It’s not far.” She set off, hugging the wall. “Stay close.”

The rest of them followed her into the depths of the hallway. They rounded a corner and the window disappeared, and now Armin couldn’t even see shadows anymore. He tried to focus on listening to the movements of his companions, but the sound of his own heartbeat seemed to grow louder and louder in his ears as he felt his way along the cold stone wall.

“Left,” a voice whispered, and it took him a moment to realize that it belonged to Mikasa. He swallowed thickly, feeling uncomfortably hot under his cloak, and he groped behind him for Eren’s hand. He collided with his elbow first, but then Eren’s fingers were curling firmly around his clammy palm, tethering him. Armin kept breathing, and kept moving.

After a few more twists and turns, the air changed and let Armin know that they had entered an open room. They still hadn’t run into anybody, but they could hear the creak of floorboards above them, and the occasional muffled voice.

“The staircase should be in here,” Mikasa whispered, so quietly it was barely above a breath.

“Hold on.” They heard Sasha shifting, and a few moments later there was the telltale sound of a match being struck. The tiny flame flickered to life, and part of the room was suddenly visible in the faint glow. It was spacious, but cluttered – there were stacks of crates grouped around the walls, some open with objects piled above the rim. The room looked like it was in the middle of being redecorated, with a few luxurious tapestries along one wall while the rest were stark and bare, and a carpet lay half-unrolled on the floor right by their feet. It was lucky none of them had tripped on it when they entered. As Sasha cast the light around, they saw two closed doors on opposite sides of the room.

“It should be this one,” Mikasa said, making her way carefully around the obstacles to the door on their right. It was unlocked, and sure enough, beyond it lay a set of stairs disappearing down into a deep darkness.

Eren frowned as he peered over her shoulder. “It shouldn’t be this easy,” he muttered, and the four of them shared an uneasy glance. He was right… but they had no choice but to press on.

“I’ll stand guard up here,” Sasha said. “I’ll toss a pebble down the stairs if I hear anyone coming, so keep an ear out.”

Mikasa nodded, and pulled a torch out of a nearby crate. “Give me some matches,” she said, and Sasha shook a few into her hand. She tucked them into her cloak for now. “Let’s go.”

They left Sasha behind and slipped into the narrow staircase. “Good luck,” they heard her whisper, and then the match sputtered out and they were in complete darkness again.

Armin kept close behind Mikasa, clutching the rickety wooden railing hitched to the wall for support and feeling cautiously for the next step. He couldn’t help shivering as the underground chill began to seep into his bones, but his other hand was still warm in Eren’s grip.

Suddenly, Mikasa stopped. “There’s another door,” she whispered. “Hold on.” They were quiet for a moment, listening for any sign of movement or voices, but only silence greeted them. Then there was the creak of the door opening, and they were through.

“Now seems like a good time for that torch, ‘Kasa,” Eren muttered in the darkness.

“Yeah, I’m getting there.” There was a hiss as Mikasa struck one of the matches on her boot, and then Armin squinted as the brighter flame of the torch caught, blinding him momentarily.

He quickly averted his gaze, and when the spots cleared from his vision he looked around the room they were in. Because it was a room – not a tunnel or a hallway – and it was huge. The torchlight just barely reached the other side. Like the room above, crates and sacks and other objects were piled high around the walls, as well as around the support beams interspersing the otherwise open space.

“Ugh.” He looked over to see Mikasa wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I think this torch is _scented._ ”

Armin blinked and breathed in, and sure enough there was a sickly sweet smell wafting from the torch. “They’re collecting all sorts of luxury items here, huh…”

“I should’ve guessed,” Mikasa muttered. “The grip’s got all sorts of engravings on it.”

“Damn rich people,” Eren grumbled. “Why would you even need something like that?”

“Well, we can complain later.” Mikasa held the torch high and turned in a circle, taking stock of the room. “I don’t see any tunnels… we’ll have to look around.”

Armin nodded, but something felt off. “Keep an eye out for trapdoors, or loose stones… anything that looks like it could hide an entrance,” he said. And they split up to scour the room, keeping within range of where Mikasa’s torch shone the brightest, but spread out enough to cover more ground.

But they found nothing, just sacks full of grain and potatoes and other foodstuffs, crates with canned goods and jars of preserves and even some bottles of wine, and the occasional spider. As they moved to the other end of the room they noticed another door, and Armin’s heart leapt, but when Eren opened it they only found another staircase leading back up on the other side of the building.

Finally, they were forced to admit defeat.

“What if there’s another way underground?” Eren asked, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “What if there’s a different staircase in a different part of the building, and that one leads to the tunnel?”

But Armin shook his head. “Look at the size and shape of this room,” he said, gesturing to it. “It looks like it matches the size and shape of the building’s ground floor. I think this is the whole basement… I think this is just a root cellar.”

They looked at each other, all three of them at a loss. But before they could say anything more, there was the sudden, terrible sound of a doorknob turning.

Armin barely had time to react before Mikasa was shoving him and Eren down behind some crates and sacks stacked around a pillar. She ducked down with them and ground the torch out under her heel just in time – no sooner had they plunged into darkness than they heard the door creak open, and the dim flickers of someone else’s torch filled the room.

He exchanged an alarmed glance with Eren and Mikasa in the shadows of their hiding spot. Whoever had just come in had done so from the opposite door. There was no way Sasha could have warned them about that, and now they were stuck almost in the central area of the basement. Armin looked over his shoulder at their door, which they’d left just slightly ajar. There was no way they’d be able to sneak out without being noticed, even using the pillars as cover…

“Think this’ll be enough?” Someone asked, sounding nervous.

“It damn well better be,” answered a gruff voice. “I haven’t been workin’ my ass off fixin’ this place up just for it to fall through.”

“Th-there’s still a lot to do, though,” said the nervous voice. “And the townsfolk—”

“The _townsfolk_ oughta consider ‘emselves lucky!” Exploded the other man. “They’re given a place to live an’ work, and now they’re gettin’ a once-in-a lifetime opportunity.”

Armin tapped Mikasa on the elbow. When she looked over, he mimed striking a match, and held out his palm. She nodded immediately and reached into her cloak, and dropped a match into his hand. Eren watched this exchange intently, and then pointedly pulled his hood back up. The other two followed suit.

“But as for the rest of us,” the gruff man was continuing, “this could ruin _everything!_ We got a good deal goin’ here, Ives, an’ I’ll be damned if we lose it ‘cause of some busybody Queen stickin’ her nose in where it don’t belong.”

Armin froze, and Eren shot him an incredulous, wide-eyed look. Mikasa braced against the crate, her eyes narrow as she listened intently. She still had the extinguished torch clasped in one hand.

“I want you to collect twice as much from the farmers by the end of tomorrow… Ives? What’re you doing?”

“Sir, do you… do you smell that?”

Armin’s heart dropped, and Mikasa swore under her breath.

“That’s the torch, you fool.”

“Sir, I’m using one of the standard torches…”

There was a beat, and suddenly the torchlight shifted, as if it were being cast around in the air.

“Who goes there? Show yourself!” The gruff voice demanded.

As if on cue, the trio sprung into action. Armin struck his match in the same moment that Mikasa stood up and flung the expired torch across the room. There was a dull _thud_ and a gasp of pain and shadows spun wildly across the walls. Armin tossed his lit match onto a sack of grain and a thin tendril of flame flickered up as the fabric caught. In the brief glance he caught of the other side of the room he saw a thin figure doubled over, clutching at their solar plexus, and a portly man snatching up the lit torch that had dropped onto the floor. He charged at them with a roar that echoed off the stone walls. Eren kicked a stack of crates into his path and the wood splintered, sending a cascade of broken glass onto the floor at his feet as the jars inside spilled out and shattered. The man stumbled, and the trio took their moment to bolt for the door, the shadows growing deeper as the flame began to consume more of the grain sack.

“IVES! PUT THAT FIRE OUT!” The man roared, and Armin’s last glimpse of the basement was of Ives staggering towards the burning mess, and the portly man making an impressive leap over the wreckage of the broken crates. They piled into the stairwell, and Eren slammed the door shut behind them. But it only slowed the man down for a moment before the door burst open behind them as they fled up the stairs in the dark. “INTRUDERS! THIEVES!” The man bellowed.

“What the hell?!” Came Sasha’s panicked voice as they shoved through the door at the top of the stairs.

“No time! Move!” Mikasa said, grabbing at her sleeve. Before Sasha turned to run, she grabbed the handful of pebbles out of her pocket and hurled them through the doorway. They pelted off the steps and narrow walls to the sound of outraged spluttering.

They stumbled back the way they had come. Sasha’s pebbles had slowed the man down a little, but he was still yelling when he finally made it through the upper door, and now they could hear voices raised in alarm above them, too, and footsteps rushing for stairways. They burst out of the side entrance and back into the open air with a tide of voices in pursuit, and the startled guards grabbed for their rifles and added their own shouts to the mix.

But they were too slow – the fugitives cleared the courtyard before the guards could fire any shots, and then the rows of houses gave them cover. They ran, Sasha leading the way, weaving through alleyways to throw their pursuers off. They managed to outdistance them, and there was nobody in the street when they finally skidded to a halt behind a building and peered around the corner at the dark silhouette of the barn. But they could hear the commotion behind them still, and it was growing closer.

“Quick,” Mikasa whispered, swinging her cloak off and reaching out to collect theirs. “Get in the stables, I’ll tie you back up—”

But she froze as they approached the stall, and then Armin’s heart lurched as a figure emerged from the shadows by the wagon. The barrel of a shotgun caught the starlight, leveled right at them.

“Y’all hold still now,” the figure said in a low voice, and Armin recognized Ker. “Make any sudden moves, I can blind all ‘a you in one shot.” She gave a dry snort. “I knew there was somethin’ fishy ‘bout you.”

Mikasa grit her teeth, wound tight like a spring. Sasha’s hands were up in the air, and Eren’s hand was hovering near his chin. Armin grabbed at his sleeve in warning, his eyes darting around for anything in their surroundings that they might be able to use. The voices were getting louder – if they didn’t act fast they’d be surrounded, and their disguises wouldn’t hold for long. He had to _think—_

Ker’s eyes flit towards the noise for a fraction of a second. “Sounds like you lot caused some trouble for the bigwigs,” she said. And then, to Armin’s surprise, she jerked her head in the direction of the house. “Better get inside.”


	34. Ker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more going on in Jalrut than meets the eye...

A single candle flickered on the table of the room they were herded into, Ker bringing up the rear with her shotgun still raised. Someone stopped pacing as they entered, and when Armin squinted into the shadows he recognized the woman who’d been on the wagon with Ker that morning. She planted her feet and stared them down, one hand tucked inside her loose cardigan, and the candlelight caught the glint of a blade. But Armin recognized the protectiveness in her glare, and there was something reassuring about that.

But he didn’t let his guard down as he looked cautiously around the room. It was sparsely furnished – the table took up most of the central area, surrounded by a few rickety wooden chairs. To the right of that was a tiny sitting space. An overturned crate served as a coffee table, with some half-finished sewing on top. Along the wall was a two-person bench with what looked like a homemade cushion strapped to the top, and beside it was an ancient rocking chair, the varnish faded and peeling. On the opposite side of the room was a kitchen area with a small, shabby stove, a washbasin, and mismatched dishes cluttering the stunted countertop. Farther back was a staircase leading up, and beside that, part of the room had been sectioned off with a plain curtain. It was partly drawn, and Armin could see some bedding atop a straw mat on the floor.

Ker motioned to the other woman, who nodded in understanding. Not taking her suspicious gaze from the guests, she moved swiftly to shove a strip of sheet under the crack at the bottom of the door.

There was a creak from the stairs and everyone’s head snapped up to see Hanji poised partway down the steps. Hanji’s glasses were back on, and their expression was frozen in what Armin recognized as suppressed alarm, one hand hovering over the pistol holstered at their belt. “What the hell’s going on here?” They asked stiffly.

Ker didn’t miss a beat, hefting her shotgun. “Stay calm, now,” she said. “I’m onto yer little ruse. Get down here an’ let’s talk.” She paused for a moment and they stared each other down. In the silence, they heard shouts from outside as the guards from the tower passed by in search of them. Ker spoke again, her voice quiet and even. “Or shall I scream for the people out there an’ tell ‘em these _thieves_ came bustin’ in here?”

Hanji’s jaw clenched. Their eyes passed over the group, and the group looked uncertainly back. But Ker tilted her head pointedly towards the door, and Hanji slowly descended. “The other one, too,” Ker ordered, and Rook reluctantly emerged from the shadows to follow.

“Good.” Ker nodded, and glanced at the other woman, who was adjusting the thick dark curtains over the shuttered window, making sure that no candlelight was getting through. “Y’all can sit,” Ker told them, gesturing at the table. “Just keep your hands where I can see ‘em. I got some questions for ya.”

They obeyed, slowly lowering into the chairs, keeping their hands on the table. Ker stood at the head of the table, shotgun in hand. Her partner moved to lurk behind her, keeping close watch on the group.

“So,” Ker began. “A group of strangers show up here with some tagalongs, includin’ one who tried to pull somethin’ on me this mornin’.” She cast a narrow-eyed stare at Sasha, who gulped. “You ask to stay the night, an’ then run off an’ get into trouble with the authorities… I know what yer up to.”

Silence stretched taut between them all for a moment. Nobody breathed. Out of the corner of his eye, Armin could see Mikasa tense as a spring about to snap. Eren’s fists were clenched on the tabletop. They had the advantage of numbers, Armin thought, if they could manage something before the gun went off…

Ker leaned forward and spoke, her voice low. “Yer with the Queen, aren’t ya?”

…What? A little of the tension went out of the air. When Armin glanced around again, he saw the others unsure of how to respond. Hanji’s eyebrows were knit together as they tried not to give away their confusion. Of course – Armin and the others hadn’t had the chance to report what they’d overheard in the root cellar. Armin looked back at Ker, and saw something akin to desperation in her face. Quickly piecing things together, he made a decision.

“Yes,” he spoke up, and all eyes snapped to him. “We work for her.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Ker’s expression changed instantly into a look of triumph. The shotgun clunked down on the table as Ker slumped into her own chair, eyes bright. “See? I told ya, Alina!” She leaned back in the chair, then immediately forward again. “And yer here to help us, ain’t that right?”

“Yes, we’re here to help.” Armin chose his next words carefully. “We found the resources being stockpiled in the tower basement in preparation for the Queen’s visit,” he said, casting a subtle glance over at Hanji, who caught his gaze and gave a slight nod of understanding, brows furrowed. “Can you tell us a little more about… about how things are run here in Jalrut?”

“’Course.” Ker nodded, her expression grave once more. The atmosphere had eased considerably with the shotgun out of her hands, though Alina still hovered cautiously behind her. “It’s bad – it’s been worse as of late, since we got word that the Queen’s comin’ – but it’s always been bad.” She sighed heavily. “I dunno if you know this already, but most all of Jalrut’s land is owned by Digley Sotts. His family bought it out some generations back, an’ they been taxin’ the rest of us dry ever since. Most of our crops go to him an’ his lackeys, as payment for lettin’ us keep livin’ here, he says. Sina knows what he even does with it all.” She snorted derisively. “You must’ve seen how poor-off it leaves the rest of us. We can’t even afford to leave.”

Hanji regarded her thoughtfully. “Where does he take your harvests?” They asked.

“To the tower or his own place, usually.”

“Does he ever get any other deliveries?”

“Sometimes.” Ker frowned. “Every couple months a wagon’ll come through. Often wanna borrow my stables.” She and Alina exchanged a glance. “Listen, you’ll help us, won’t ya? We heard this Queen’s actually makin’ a difference in some places, but we never thought she’d come to our little corner of the Walls. Sotts an’ his men are worryin’ their heads off, but the rest of us… well, it’s like we got the first spot of hope in a long time.”

Alina rested a calloused hand on her shoulder from behind as Ker stared earnestly at the grim faces surrounding the table.

Finally, Hanji nodded. “We’ll make sure Queen Historia hears about this,” they promised solemnly.

“Knowing her, there’s no way she’ll let things go on like this,” Sasha chimed in, giving the couple an encouraging smile – the effect was somewhat diminished by the dirt still smeared over her face.

“You don’t know how much that’d mean to us,” Ker said softly. “To everyone tryin’ to make an honest living here.”

“Ker,” Hanji said, leaning over to address her and speaking carefully. “We think there might be… something else Sotts is hiding.” They glanced at Armin for confirmation, and he nodded slightly. “Have you noticed any other suspicious activity?”

“Suspicious activity is Jalrut’s main trade,” Ker replied wryly. But she grew serious again. “I’m no farmer myself – my family used to be, but that’s in the past. We make our living hirin’ out our horses, seein’ as they’re the only ones left in town, aside from Sotts’ fancy ones. But those couldn’t haul a tiller even if he’d let ‘em.” She rolled her eyes, then folded her hands and continued. “Every once in a while, Sotts’ men wanna use my horses. Usually after those wagons come in, now that I think of it. The horses’re usually gone four or five days or so. But I never see ‘em around town, an’ they never tell me where they’re taking ‘em.” She shook her head, looking mystified. “But the horses never come back hurt, and the pay’s good. So…” She gave a resigned shrug.

Armin glanced around at his companions, catching their eyes – they were all thinking the same thing.

“And where does Sotts live?” Hanji asked, gaze fixed intently on Ker.

“His place’s right up against the Wall,” she replied, jerking her head in its general direction. “You’ll know it when ya see it.”

Hanji pushed themself up from the table. “Thank you. Your information is a big help.” They gestured to the others, and everyone got to their feet.

“Wait,” Ker said, hurrying to stand up as well. “There’s somethin’ else—”

But before she could continue, a series of huge bangs caused them all to jump. The door shuddered in its frame as someone pounded on it from the other side.

“Ker! Open up!” A man’s voice barked, and she cursed under her breath as the doorknob rattled violently – luckily, it was locked.

“Quick!” She hissed, turning to usher the group towards the back of the room. Alina had already darted to the curtained-off area and was lifting up the edge of the mattress, and underneath was a hatch.

“Don’t make a sound,” Alina whispered fiercely as they all piled in, and the last thing Armin saw was Ker pulling a long robe over her clothes before he disappeared under the floor. The hatch closed behind them, and they were left in darkness.

Near-darkness, anyway. A few dim slivers of candlelight shone through the thin cracks between the floorboards above, and Armin could just barely make out the faint silhouettes of their surroundings. It was a tight fit. The six soldiers were crammed into a crawlspace, too low to stand in, and small enough that they were pressed uncomfortably against each other. There were objects around the perimeter of the area that Armin couldn’t identify in the dark, but the sharp edge of what felt like a crate was digging harshly into his back. If he had to guess, this was probably storage for valuables or emergency supplies, hidden away so they wouldn’t be stolen. Armin remembered the shadowy figures stalking the dark streets and felt a pang of anger.

The man was still banging on the front door, but then Armin heard the lock click.

“What the devil d’ya think yer doin’ at this time of night, Doran?” Ker demanded, and Armin could hear the fierce hostility in her voice even muffled through the floorboards. “ _Some_ of us have to get up an’ work in the mornin’, ya know!”

The floor creaked as a set of heavy footsteps sauntered in. “Oh, cool your heels, woman. I’ll leave you to your beauty rest soon enough.” Doran’s voice was low and gruff, but his tone was light, a kind of imitation friendliness. Armin felt an inexplicable chill up his spine and the prickle of familiarity at the back of his mind. He kept as still as possible, his brows furrowing unconsciously as he strained his ears to listen. “I heard you had some guests. Where are they?”

“I don’t see what business that is of yers,” Ker replied coldly.

“It’s business of everyone’s,” the man said evenly. “There was a break-in at the tower. That’s a serious crime… as you well know.”

Ker snorted. “Doran, there’s plenty folks in this town who’d wanna break into the tower. The strangers were called here by Sotts himself, an’ I’m sure they were paid handsomely for whatever fancy junk they brought with ‘em. Why should they care ‘bout our affairs?”

“You might be right. All the same, we can’t take risks. Not at such an _important_ time.” He almost spat the word. “So, tell me again where your guests are? They upstairs?”

Ker gave a sigh. “They ran out,” she said. “They had some street rats with ‘em, that they were keepin’ in the barn. I guess those rats took advantage of the commotion outside an’ made a break for it. The others went chasin’ after ‘em. That’s what I gathered anyway, we were _tryin’_ to sleep,” she grumbled.

“Hm. So they left after the commotion had already started?”

“I guess. I thought the ruckus was _because_ they were escapin’, but I guess that wasn’t it.”

“I guess it wasn’t,” Doran agreed mildly. “All the same, mind if I check around?”

“I don’t s’pose we have much choice,” Ker muttered.

“Now, now. What if they left something suspicious lying around? We can’t let any harm come to the town’s best stablemaster.”

“They didn’t seem the sort to leave their valuables lyin’ around,” she replied dryly.

The floor creaked as Doran’s footsteps roved farther into the house. The crawlspace was dead silent – nobody moved a muscle, nobody dared to breathe. The footsteps paused right above them. A tiny sprinkle of dust loosened and drifted down over Armin’s head.

“Still sleeping on a straw mat, huh,” Doran said with mock sadness.

“Maybe if we made as much as _some_ freeloaders,” Ker bit back.

“Aw, that’s harsh. I’m working now, ain’t I?”

His footsteps moved away, and Armin listened to the two of them move upstairs. The soldiers collectively let out the breath they’d been holding.

The person next to Armin shifted a little, trying to reposition his legs. It was Eren, Armin intuited – he could tell from the heat he threw and the familiar rhythm of his breaths.

“Hey,” Eren whispered, nudging his elbow. “Is something wrong? You went kinda stiff.”

Armin was still frowning, racking his brain for why he recognized Doran’s voice. But as hard as he thought, it was locked away just out of reach.

“That man,” he whispered back. “Does he sound familiar to you?”

Eren paused for a moment, thinking. “No,” he said, sounding confused. “I don’t think so…”

“I’ve never heard him, either,” Mikasa said, from Eren’s other side. “Why? Do you know him?”

Armin sighed and shook his head. “No… He probably just sounds like someone else.” But he couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling, almost like queasiness, that had settled in his gut.

“I hate cramped spaces,” Sasha mumbled, her voice strained.

“Shh,” Hanji hissed. “They’re coming back.”

They quieted again as they heard the footsteps descending the stairs.

“Guess that’s that,” Doran was saying. “You sure they didn’t bail on purpose ‘cause you’re so inhospitable?”

“They wasted their money if they did,” Ker replied sourly. “You done here?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” His footsteps moved over to the door. “Keep your eyes peeled, ladies. If things go bad, well… _everyone’s_ gonna suffer.” The threat was unmistakable in his tone, and then the door opened, and shut.

All was quiet again. Armin faintly heard Ker and Alina murmuring to each other, too low for him to make out the words. A few minutes later the hatch opened, and candlelight illuminated the space below.

“It’s clear,” Alina whispered. “You can come out now.”

They emerged from the crawlspace, Sasha looking pale and clammy and taking deep breaths of the open air. Mikasa frowned and gave her shoulder a couple of awkward pats. They saw Ker with her ear pressed to the door, and she held up a hand to gesture for them to stay quiet. Then she straightened up and approached them.

“You lot caused quite a stir,” she said quietly. “The streets’re crawlin’ with people lookin’ for ya.”

Hanji raised an eyebrow at Armin and the others, and Armin ducked his head to avoid the stare. In hindsight, maybe setting a fire in the town’s main food storage hadn’t been the best idea.

“Even so,” Hanji said, turning their gaze back to Ker. “We’ll have our best shot with the cover of darkness. Strangers poking around where they shouldn’t be in broad daylight will be too suspicious.”

“Oh,” Ker said, a glint in her dark eyes, “but a local doin’ her job won’t be.”

Hanji opened their mouth, then closed it again. “I’m listening,” they said, the hint of a conspiratorial grin on their lips.

\--

“Sorry I can’t give ya anything more comfortable,” Ker apologized as she handed Armin an old, ratty blanket.

“No no, this is plenty,” he reassured her, accepting it. “Thank you so much.” The others were already settling down in the spare loft room upstairs, spreading the spare blankets Ker and Alina had dug up for them out on the wood floor for some extra padding. Sasha had won the draw for the only straw mat, and was already fast asleep. Hanji stood against the wall by the curtained window, ear cocked to listen.

“It’s the least I can do,” Ker said, her eyes drifting over the soldiers. “Somethin’ needs to change in this town. It’s an honor to help that along.” She set her jaw, and Armin could see determination glinting fiercely in her eyes. He nodded back at her, feeling a deep respect. She had as much mettle as any soldier.

Ker bade them goodnight and left the room, rejoining Alina downstairs. Armin turned and saw Eren gesturing to him, crouched with Mikasa on the floor by his own blanket. He didn’t need to ask questions – they’d done this countless times before during their refugee days. Wordlessly, Armin stepped closer, holding out a section of his blanket to compare it to the one Mikasa had been given. Hers was slightly thicker so they lay it out over Eren’s, overlapping them a little so there was enough space for the three of them to fit. Then they tugged off their shoes and crawled into place, rolling their cloaks up into makeshift pillows.

“You two are disgusting,” Mikasa muttered in distaste from the other side of Eren. But it didn’t stop her from stretching her arm out to drape over them.

Eren grimaced. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, shifting on his side as he tried to get a little more comfortable. “I’m not like this because I want to be.”

Armin adjusted his blanket lengthwise to cover all of them from the waist down. “Well, with a little luck, it won’t be much longer before we can get cleaned up,” he reassured. But it was punctuated by a yawn. He was too exhausted right now to feel dirty, and he felt his body sinking down into their makeshift bedding.

Everyone else had settled down by now, too. Hanji lifted the candle off the crate serving as a nightstand.

“Get some sleep,” they said from their post standing guard. “We move at sunrise.”

The candle went out. Armin tucked into Eren’s chest, the activity of the previous day and half the night hitting him like a ton of bricks. It didn’t matter that he was covered in grime, or that the floor was still hard beneath the blankets. Huddled into Eren and Mikasa’s arms, he felt warm, and secure, and he had dropped into a dreamless sleep before he had time to form a thought.

\--

Armin startled awake, bleary and disoriented, to the harsh clanging of a bell and a cacophony of raised voices from the streets. He jerked upright and saw the others in a similar state of confusion. Mikasa was already on her feet, the speed of her alertness made only slightly less elegant by her glorious bedhead sticking up at all angles. Eren was scrambling to disentangle his legs from the blanket, cursing, and Armin hurried to shove his shoes back on. The faint traces of light were just beginning to filter through the gaps in the thick curtain, bathing the room in a cool dawn gray.

Hanji, who had switched places with Rook sometime during the night, had leapt to their feet to peer out the window.

“What is it?” Sasha asked as she frantically raked her hair back into its usual ponytail. “Have they found us?”

“I don’t think so,” Hanji said, squinting through the cracked-open shutters. More and more voices were joining the clamor, creating a constant hum of noise mixed with shouts and what sounded like cheers. “I think…”

But before they could finish, footsteps came pounding up the rickety stairs and a moment later Ker burst in. Her robe was thrown carelessly over her long nightgown and her face was flushed, her eyes bright with excitement.

“She’s here!” She said breathlessly, her expression more animated than they had seen until now. “Queen Historia is here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Harold they're lesbians)
> 
> Also just a quick heads up, the next chapter might end up being a bit late! I'm going to be away next weekend so we'll see how significantly that disrupts my writing process. Obviously I'll do my best to get it done on time anyway, but I wanted to let you guys know just in case. Thank you so much for your patience to everyone sticking with this fic! I appreciate it so so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you have a great day/night! <3


	35. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our intrepid trio delves deeper into Jalrut's secrets (literally).

Armin winced as the wagon lurched over yet another pothole, the contact rattling through his jaw and into his skull. He was currently packed tight between Mikasa and Sasha in the dark, cramped space beneath the false floor of Ker’s wagon. He hadn’t had an issue with motion sickness since his first time riding long-distance as a trainee, but the roads in Jalrut were so badly-kept that he found himself gritting his teeth against the telltale signs of nausea beginning to boil in his stomach. He was glad, at least, that they didn’t have far to go.

As if on cue, the wagon finally rolled to a stop. Armin held his breath and listened – he could hear the constant stream of voices in the distance, but around them, there seemed to be nothing but Ker’s footsteps creaking through the back of the wagon to their hiding place. There was a scuffing noise as she dragged away the bag of grain that hid the trapdoor, and then light streamed into the dark space.

“It’s clear,” she hissed, and one by one they clambered out. It was amazing that they had all managed to fit in there, Armin thought as he gratefully sucked in the fresh air.

“I can’t believe that was so _easy,_ ” Ker was saying gleefully. There was no trace of the harsh austerity she had shown throughout their first meetings. She almost seemed like a whole different person. “Nobody even stopped us – they barely even _looked_ at us!”

“They must be busy welcoming the Queen,” Hanji said, dusting themself off. “Where are we now?”

“Just near the back of Sotts’ storehouses. There’s a servant’s entrance with a back way into the stables.”

“Alright.” Hanji nodded, looking around at the others huddled on the wagon floor. “Then we’ll stick to the plan as much as possible. Ker… you’ve done more than enough. If anything happens, don’t worry about us. Just get yourself to safety.”

Ker’s expression sobered, but she nodded. “I’ll get to work unloadin’ then.” She began to stand, but froze suddenly. “Oh! I almost forgot – I meant to tell ya this last night.” She crouched back down, her lips tugged into a grim frown. “When I came into town yesterday, I was comin’ back from a delivery. Sotts’ lackeys hired me to transport some crates, only they wouldn’t tell me what was in ‘em. Money’s money though, and I couldn’t well turn ‘em down.” She scowled. “So I took it, but some ways outta town I went into the back to look at what I was deliverin’. But…”

“But?” Hanji prompted as she trailed off.

“But I couldn’t tell what it was,” she said, brows furrowed. “There was a bunch’a old booze bottles all mismatched, but it sure wasn’t booze _in_ ‘em. I uncorked a couple and gave it a sniff – it was foul stuff. There weren’t no new labels on ‘em or nothin’, either. But there were a lotta crates. It gave me a bad feelin’.”

Hanji narrowed their eyes in thought. “And where did you deliver these crates?”

“Delv,” Ker replied. “We met up with some other guy at a big stable. I never saw so many wagons in my life.”

Armin frowned to himself. Delv was a big trade town, he remembered, with goods and crops constantly coming and going. It would be difficult to track down any singular transaction there. All the same, that was a problem for later.

“We’ll make sure to look into that too,” Hanji promised. Ker nodded firmly, and got to her feet.

“Alright,” she said, her eyes glinting again. “Good luck.”

She climbed out of the back of the wagon, peered around, and then gestured to the rest of them. They emerged cautiously, but there was nobody nearby. Armin looked around, and got his first glimpse of Sotts’ estate.

It wasn’t much to see, at this angle. They were at the back of an alley between the stables and what looked like another storehouse, as Ker had said, and almost right above them loomed Wall Rose. The estate had been built almost right up against it, and there was only enough room for two people to walk abreast between the Wall and the back of the building. As Armin peered further back into the space, he realized why they hadn’t noticed this place earlier. Sotts had built his estate out instead of up. The building connected to the other side of the stables was no taller than the other houses in town, and judging by the faded, mossy stone, it was the oldest fixture. The stables, as well as the sprawling building on the far side of the stone house, appeared to have been annexed on later.

“Let’s go,” Hanji ordered, keeping their voice low. The group slipped into the storeroom’s side entrance while Ker began to casually unload the sacks of harvest from the back, which she’d collected from some excited farmers early that morning. She hummed a tune as she worked, taking her sweet time.

The storeroom shelves were piled high, but they didn’t dwell there. Instead, they slipped through another door leading into a hallway, which, true to Ker’s word, opened up into the back of the spacious and utterly deserted stables. Armin silently thanked Historia for her convenient timing in drawing everyone’s attention. The only other living beings were the few horses whinnying and shuffling in their stalls, indignant at being forgotten – they were glossy-coated and delicate, quite unlike Ker’s lean, muscled work horses. It was clear that they had never pulled so much as a wagon in their lives. Armin felt a stab of disgust that these horses were being wasted as trophy animals, sucking up resources for no other reason than the display of wealth.

At a gesture from Hanji, the soldiers dispersed throughout the wide room, checking along the walls for any sign of a hidden doorway. If Ker’s horses really were being used to transport supplies through the tunnels to some outer base, the entrance would need to be big enough to fit not only the animals, but a whole wagon, too. Unless the wagon was kept underground? Either way, a door like that shouldn’t be so easy to hide, Armin thought with a frown as he searched for any discolored segments in the wood paneling, or odd fixtures attached to the wall. Seeing as this was a stable, there were plenty of hooks and sundry tacked to the walls to hold bridles, blankets, and other apparatus.

They were having no luck, though, no matter how many hooks they tested or wood panels they knocked on to listen for empty space beyond. Doubt was beginning to creep into the back of Armin’s mind. What if this whole tunnel theory turned out to be wrong? Thinking about it now, the whole notion seemed laughable. Tunneling under the walls? If it were that easy, they would’ve done so by now. The Survey Corps would be the Digger Corps instead.

But Armin grit his teeth and did his best to shake it off, and redoubled his efforts. It was a crazy idea, sure, but it was the best thing they had to go on. One way or another, he had to find out for sure.

But suddenly, they were interrupted.

“Well, if it ain’t Doran!” Ker’s voice rang loud and clear outside the stables. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

_Shit._ Instantly, the soldiers darted into whatever nearby hiding places they could find. Armin ducked behind some hay bales stacked near one of the walls, and saw Eren vault over a gate into an empty stall. Mikasa had already disappeared. Armin kept still, and listened.

“I’d say the same to you,” Doran was saying. But there was no false friendliness in his tone today. Instead it was sharp and almost accusatory. “I don’t recall you had business here today.”

“I didn’t,” Ker replied evenly. “But I thought ya might use the help gettin’ things over quicker. We gotta make a good impression for the Queen after all. Ain’t that right?”

Doran muttered something inaudible. “That’s right,” he spat. Then, dismissively, “I got work to do.”

“Good luck,” Ker singsonged after him. There was a creak as the back gate swung open, and Doran’s heavy footsteps entered the stables, slightly muffled by the layer of old straw padding the floor.

Armin squeezed his fists against his knees. He shouldn’t risk breaking his cover, he knew. But something about Doran’s voice just wouldn’t stop tugging at his memory, no matter how he tried to brush it off as coincidence. So, very cautiously, he leaned over to peek out from behind the hay bales.

Doran was tall and broad-shouldered, filling out plain but well-fitted clothes that were somewhat jarringly mismatched by the jewelry he wore – a pewter chain with a large, garish pendant, a brooch on his lapel, a few rings with colored stones on his fingers, all fastidiously polished. He strode with single-minded purpose through the center of the stables, his thick brows drawn into a scowl, frown evident beneath his thick beard, his nose crooked as if it had been recently broken. His hands were large and rough and dirty and Armin could feel them clamped over his mouth and around his throat, taste the harsh copper tang of blood on his tongue, hear the gruff voice a furious hiss in his ear _you’re lucky I have to take you alive…_

Armin wasn’t breathing. His fist was clenched into a handful of hay, his knuckles stark white as for a moment he was back in those woods, unarmed and unprepared. But Doran hurried through the stables without so much as looking around and ducked through the doorway connecting to the main house, and Armin could smell the hay again, feel the cloying summer heat beginning to fill the morning. He sucked in a deep breath, a phantom ache gripping his throat and his head spinning. But he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the hay bale for support.

“What happened?” Mikasa suddenly whispered from behind him, and he couldn’t help a jolt of shock at her sudden reappearance. She was frowning at him in concern. The others were emerging now, too. Eren noticed something was wrong as he climbed back over the stall gate and hurried over.

“That… that was the guy who attacked me in the woods that time,” Armin told them, keeping his voice low in case Doran was still within earshot. Eren’s eyes went dangerously wide, and Mikasa’s narrowed. Armin took a deep breath. “We should go after him.” He was proud of how quickly he’d managed to regain his composure – he’d kept his voice from wavering at all, although his knees still felt a little unsteady.

Eren already looked prepared to spring, but before he could say anything, Hanji suddenly chimed in. Armin managed to keep himself from jumping this time as the trio turned to face their officer.

“I think you’re right,” Hanji said, casting a glance at where Doran had disappeared. Their expression was carefully blank as they leveled their gaze at Armin’s pale but resolute face. “You three, follow him and see what you can learn. Don’t get caught.” They turned their back. “The rest of us will keep looking for the tunnel.”

“Yes, Squad Leader.” As the three of them turned to go, Armin glanced back at Hanji’s stoic frame, wondering if this was, in part, an apology.

But there was no time to waste. Eren, Armin, and Mikasa darted swiftly through the doorway Doran had entered, and found themselves in a servant’s passage. It wasn’t hard to tell where he’d gone – they could still hear his heavy footsteps thunking down the hallway and around a corner. They hurried silently after him. Armin’s nerves were alive with adrenaline. The perfumed air of the house prickled the inside of his nose, he was acutely aware of each bead of sweat forming under the fringe of his bangs, he could feel the thud of Doran’s steps reverberating in the soles of his own feet. His heart was thundering, but this time it was different. This time, he was in control.

He glanced to either side of him. Eren’s brows were lowered in a familiar picture of grim and absolute focus. Mikasa was focused too, but as Armin watched he saw her throw a cautious glance at Eren, as if making sure he wouldn’t go charging in headlong the moment Doran came back into view. As they paused to check around a corner, Armin nudged his wrist. Eren looked over at him as if coming out of a trance and Armin held his gaze for a moment. _It’s okay._ Eren’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded. Armin glanced over at Mikasa, who was watching this exchange, and she caught his eye and turned away, satisfied.

They emerged from the servant’s passage into a house not much bigger than the safehouse had been, but far more opulent than even that. Printed wallpaper decorated the parlor in elegant patterns that matched the thick carpet stretching all the way to the edges of the room. All the furniture was expertly crafted; the coffee table looked to have real silver edging, and the armchairs were the fluffiest things Armin had ever seen. It was such a stark difference from the shabby, disheveled state of the rest of the town, and Armin felt his stomach churning once again. Glancing up, he saw a framed painting hanging on the wall – a portrait. It took him a moment to remember where he’d seen that face before, but then it came to him. It was the man who’d chased them up the root cellar stairs last night. So this was Sotts, Armin thought distastefully.

Doran was thumping through the next room and they followed, keeping well enough behind that they wouldn’t be accidentally spotted. Lucky for them, the house was just as deserted as the stables, save for one servant who rushed across their path at one point, arms laden and practically stumbling in their hurry.

They finally heard Doran stop, and they paused crouched outside the doorway, ready to bolt or hide if anyone came along. The door hadn’t closed all the way, and through the gap Armin could see another richly-furnished space that looked like a study. Doran was moving around inside, grumbling ill-temperedly – but he seemed to be alone.

Armin squeezed at his fingertips, impatient. He leaned over and braced carefully against the doorframe. As he tried to peer through the sliver between the edge of the door and the hinge space, there was the sound of something heavy sliding across carpet. Armin just managed to glimpse a figure disappearing, and then the room went still and silent.

The trio waited, holding their breath. Then Armin pushed himself to his feet. Mikasa’s hand flinched out towards him in caution, but he shook his head to reassure her. “Come on,” he whispered, beckoning them to follow as he slipped through the study door. Mikasa and Eren shared a confused glance, and followed.

“Where’d he go?” Eren asked in a hushed voice, looking around the empty study. There was only the one entrance – one visible entrance, that is. “What was that noise?”

Mikasa was silent, but as she watched Armin hurry around the desk, her eyes widened in understanding. “Do you think…?” There came the sharp intake of Eren’s breath as he caught on, as well.

“Maybe.” Armin licked his dry lips, searching the neat shelves for some sort of handle or pulley, careful not to move the books around too much. “It would make sense for there to be another entrance – the stables look newer than this building, they probably added one there so they could get the horses through…”

“Here.” Eren, who had come over to help look, tapped on the outer right wall of the bookshelf. When Armin looked, there was a nondescript groove carved into the side – so nondescript, it stood out like a sore thumb in the richly-decorated study. Eren slipped his fingers in and gave it an experimental tug, and the bookshelf creaked slightly. He pulled harder, grunting a little at its weight.

“Let me.” Mikasa strode over, shooing them out of the way. They stood back and she hauled at the handle, and sure enough, the shelf swung open on a hinge, the carpet muffling its noise. Armin shivered a little as a stony chill wafted up from the gaping maw now before him, and the steep set of stairs leading straight down a short way before turning sharply and disappearing. The dim glow of torchlight flickered from somewhere around the bend.

Eren glanced over at them. “Should we…?”

Armin pressed his lips together, momentarily torn. “We… should make sure,” he said. “We can’t go and report finding the tunnel only to discover later that it was just another root cellar.” It was true, but he wondered if it sounded as much like an excuse to them as it did to him.

“I agree,” Mikasa said, and the matter was settled. They stepped into the mouth of the staircase, pulling the secret door shut behind them with the more prominent handle jutting from the back. And they began to descend.

Armin’s heart danced double-time in his chest as they plunged deep into the earth, deeper than the root cellar, deeper even than where he’d been held captive. The stairs were almost dangerously steep and narrow and he kept one hand flat against the wall to hold himself steady. The torchlight faded around the corners behind them, and then brightened again as they approached the next landing. Their breaths seemed to echo in the cramped space.

Then, eventually, they reached an opening in the shape of a doorway that signaled the end. From beyond, they heard Doran’s voice, raised in anger and magnified by the echo of the room.

“…don’t give a shit about that! You _know_ there’s supposed to be at least four of you here at all times!”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, keeping close to the wall, as a woman’s surly voice replied.

“I _do_ know. But we got orders straight from Sotts himself,” she said sourly. Mikasa crouched down, low to the floor, and peeked quickly around the corner. “Besides,” the woman continued, her voice taking on a haughty tone. “I dunno what authority you think _you_ have. You may be a bigshot here in this shithole of a town, but don’t go forgetting that you’re only in that position thanks to _our_ handouts.”

Doran scoffed, and his voice was thick with derision when he spoke again. “If you really think you and _Sotts_ are in charge, you’re even dumber than I thought,” he spat.

“So you just play Sotts’ lapdog for fun, then?” She shot back, mocking.

“Listen,” he said, voice dripping with condescension. “When Sotts is running things, do whatever that idiot says. But right now, he’s _not_ the one running things. The things we can usually get away with don’t apply. You follow?”

The woman fell silent, and there was the sound of uncomfortable shifting. Mikasa glanced up and gestured for them to follow her before slipping out from behind the corner, so low to the ground she was almost crawling. Eren and Armin dropped down and followed.

They emerged from the cramped stairway into a spacious chamber, but there was no time to look around – there was a makeshift living space set up ahead of them, with a table, a few uncushioned chairs, a storage box, a set of old, worm-eaten lockers, and two small cots. The table was draped with a skewed tablecloth a little too big for its size, and through the gaps in the cloth Armin could see two pairs of legs and the bottom of what looked like a desk.

The table was also where Mikasa was heading, as it was the only viable hiding place within reach. The three of them slipped silently beneath the tablecloth, doing their best to stay out of range of the gaps.

“Now,” Doran was saying. “Since you understand the situation… where’d the others get off to?”

“Dunno,” the woman grumbled. “I didn’t hear. Sotts just said he needed ‘em. Helping with the tavern, maybe? They’re shortstaffed.”

Doran cursed. “Fine. You stay here and do your damn job. I’ll go track them down. And _maybe_ you’ll get to keep your heads. If the boss is feeling generous, anyway.” His sneer was audible, and then he turned. His quick strides passed their hiding place so close it made the edge of the tablecloth flutter. And then his footsteps receded back up the stairs.

Eren, Armin, and Mikasa held their breath for a few moments longer, as if waiting for the silence to settle. Then they looked around at each other, deciding what to do. Mikasa’s hand began to creep into her cloak, towards her knife, but she stopped when Armin held up a cautionary hand. If they could do this without anyone discovering that they’d been down there, all the better.

Eren was doing his best not to fidget. Gingerly, he leaned forward to peer out one of the gaps in the drapes of the tablecloth, on the side facing where the guard would be standing. But then he pulled back and shook his head. Any more, and he’d risk coming into her view.

Armin pressed his lips together and decided to try the other side. He squinted out in the direction they’d come in. He could see the gap in the wall where the stairs let out, and beyond that… darkness. Despite all the wall-mounted torches, they were burning low and their illumination didn’t reach very far. Armin craned his neck to check above them, and caught a gasp before it could escape his throat.

The ceiling of the chamber was high, but he could just see its pale surface in the glow of the torchlight. It was rougher, more unrefined, less cared for than the Walls were – but unmistakably the same type of material.

His mind reeled for a moment, thoughts and possibilities unspooling in his head like a dropped ball of yarn. But he hurried to wind them back in, carefully keeping his breathing quiet and even as he tucked them away for later. There were other things to think of right now.

So he forced his eyes away from the strange pale ceiling and down over the line on the wall where it gave way to regular stone. Along the wall opposite the stairs, there was another opening. It looked like it led into some kind of adjoining chamber, but Armin couldn’t tell from this angle. This entrance was closer to where the guard stood, and all he could see without leaning fully out from cover was a small sliver of space, and some sort of metallic gleam in the darkness.

But he couldn’t see anything else. He retreated back into the heavy shadows beneath the table, and found Eren and Mikasa watching him intently.

His face must have been pale, because Eren’s brows furrowed. _What is it?_ His expression asked.

Armin pointed upward, then pressed a finger to his lips. Eren and Mikasa exchanged a glance. Mikasa went first, leaning out the safe side of the table to peer up at the ceiling. Armin saw her body freeze. When she pulled herself back in, her expression was stony and tight-lipped in surprise. Now Eren went, impatiently, leaning forward on his elbows to get a look. It must’ve taken him a few seconds to process what he saw, but then his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles went white. Armin could see him trembling a little as he retreated, eyes wide with confusion and anger.

But as Eren straightened up, his elbow jerked back a little too far and connected with a table leg. _Thunk._ The dull noise resonated loudly through the chamber. All three of them stopped breathing. The guard’s bored shuffling stopped. Eren’s teeth clamped together in fury at himself.

“Hello?” The guard called suspiciously. Her voice seemed to echo for miles. Then there was the sound of a gun cocking. “Is someone there?”

They heard her take a step forward. Mikasa’s knife was out.

But before anything else could happen, a harsh grating noise tore through the air. All of them jumped. Eren hit his elbow again, but it didn’t matter because the guard was too busy cursing as the noise ground to a halt.

“The hell are they—?!” She cut herself off as the noise came again, a few seconds longer this time. “HEY!” She bellowed, her voice booming through the chamber. “We’re not scheduled!” But the noise drowned her out before stopping again. Armin saw her legs doing the back-and-forth shuffle of uncertainty. “Fuck,” she muttered, and took off running. Her footsteps echoed up the stairs, and then faded into silence.

Armin exchanged glances with Eren and Mikasa. They waited, but whatever that noise was, it wasn’t coming again. They seemed to be alone.

Eren went first, looking cautiously around as he emerged from beneath the table. Then he beckoned to them that it was safe. “What the hell,” he said, his voice hoarse as he looked up at the ceiling again. He was still visibly shaken. “How the hell did this…?”

“I don’t know.” Armin shook his head as he and Mikasa followed him out. “I mean, there are a few possibilities. But we can’t know for sure, not right now, anyway. But… if we’re in the right place, it would explain a lot.”

In the brief silence that fell, it was clear that they all sensed that this was indeed the right place.

“C’mon,” Eren said after a moment. “Let’s look around.”

Armin and Mikasa nodded, and the three of them turned to investigate.

It was a guard station, just as it had appeared, furnished with a few comforts to provide some rest and entertainment during long shift rotations. Most of the furniture, Armin noticed, was arranged closer to the walls, leaving the wide center space clear. It left a path, as it were, up to where the guard had been standing. And where the guard had been standing, there was a gate.

Armin approached it, noting how the steel posts had been bolted into the stone floor. He turned his gaze up, into the darkness beyond. He glanced over his shoulder.

“I’ll check this way,” he called to his friends. Eren lifted one of the torches out of its bracket on the wall.

“I’ll check the other way, then.”

Mikasa nodded to them, already peering into the adjoining chamber. “Don’t go too far.” As if it was unspoken knowledge that they could.

In addition to the torches, there was a lit kerosene lamp on the nearby desk. Armin picked it up, his heart in his throat, and climbed over the gate. He took a deep breath, and a step forward. Then another. And another.

The light from the guard station began to recede behind him, leaving Armin in the small bubble of the lantern. A chill crept up his spine, not just from the cold, but from the eerie emptiness of the space. The dull noise of his soft shoes against the stone echoed, and the sound of his breath, the thud of his heartbeat, seemed to fill the whole place. And still, the chamber continued. The pace of his footsteps took on a hypnotic sort of rhythm. He cast his light around as he walked, half-expecting to run across a dead end. But there was nothing – only the walls on either side of him, the menacing ceiling above, and an endless void stretching straight out before him.

Armin paused and turned, and felt a jolt upon realizing that the guard station had faded almost to a speck behind him. He hadn’t been aware that he’d walked so far, and his heart stuttered unpleasantly as the irrational sensation that there was _something else_ in there with him began to slip its cold fingers down the back of his neck. He strode briskly back towards the light, refusing to give in to the primal parts of his brain that were screaming at him to _run._ He set his jaw, refused to look behind him, and walked.

Mikasa was rifling through the desk drawer when he made it back. She glanced up and waved him over as he climbed back over the gate, his paranoia fading away in the comfort of her familiar presence.

“Look at this,” she urged him, and he hurried over to look at the handful of papers she thrust at him.

“January 8, 860,” Armin read aloud. “Delivery complete. Two hundred cans preserved fish, eighty pounds gunpowder, thirty sacks flour…”

“It’s just like the record we found in your book,” Mikasa said, a glint in her eye that almost looked like triumph.

Armin nodded slowly, scanning the page. He flipped back through a few of the other sheets. “These deliveries… they’ve gotten more frequent this year,” he noticed. “And the amount of transported goods has increased, too. Look, before this date, there was one entry every two months. But since March 14th, there’s been one every month.”

“That was right around when Command went to the interior, wasn’t it?” Eren’s voice suddenly said. Armin and Mikasa looked up to see him returning from the other direction, setting the torch back on the wall. “I think that way just keeps going. I didn’t find an end, anyway.” He hurried over to see what the other two were looking at.

“This side is like that, too.” Armin looked between the two of them, then back at the records. “I think… we can safely say we’ve found what we were looking for.”

They fell silent for a moment, weighed down by the magnitude of the chamber. No, not the chamber – the tunnel.

Armin made to put the records down, but then something else caught his eye. “Hang on,” he said. “There’s a second entry on last month… July 10th. Retrieval complete. Six hundred pounds… knaproot?” He stopped, and frowned. “What’s knaproot?”

“Never heard of it,” Eren said, and Mikasa shook her head.

Armin flipped back through the pages. Sure enough, he found an almost identical entry in January, and in September of the previous year, and in a couple of other scattered months. The only difference was that they were in smaller quantities. But without any other clues, he couldn’t begin to guess at what it was for.

“It sounds like a plant… We’ll have to ask Hanji later if they’ve heard of it.” Armin shook his head, straightening out the stack of records and putting them back in the desk drawer – but not before he slipped one out and folded it into his pocket.

“There’s one more thing,” Mikasa said, stepping away and beckoning. They followed her over to the adjoined chamber and peered inside as she hefted up a torch to give them some light.

This chamber was not built with the same stone as the rest of the tunnel, and they couldn’t see any trace of the bone-white substance that made up the roof of the tunnel – although no matter how high Mikasa held the torch, the ceiling here was much too far for the light to reach. This chamber was large and square and mostly empty aside from the steel support structures stretching up and up into the darkness – and a series of ropes and pulleys trailing down from it.

“Doesn’t this look like a lift to you?” Mikasa asked. Eren bent down and plucked something up off the floor. When he straightened up again, a single piece of straw twirled between his fingertips.

\--

“So,” Armin was gasping as they hurried back up the stairs. “The way Eren went must’ve led under Jalrut and back towards the Military Police headquarters in Ruhmort. And the tunnel behind the gate, that way should lead all the way under Wall Maria, and outside to that point on the map.” He clutched at the wall for support as he hauled himself up the steep, unforgiving steps, around and around to each landing. It was much more exhausting going up than it was coming down. Eren was visibly struggling too, and even Mikasa had a sheen of sweat on her brow.

But for as much as his legs and lungs were burning, exhilaration carried Armin forward. They had been _right._ As implausible as it had all seemed, there really was a tunnel under the Walls. And that meant there really was something worth finding outside of them, too. All of Armin’s uncertainties, his excitement, his fears, were now focused on that single unmarked point on the map.

“If that lift really does go up to the stables,” Mikasa said, glancing back from her place at the front of the progression, “maybe we can get our horses and follow the tunnel to the end.”

“There are usually guards there, though,” Eren pointed out, wheezing.

“So we storm the gates.”

“People will definitely notice a big group of strangers trying to bring a bunch of horses in,” Armin said. “For now, we…” he cut off for a moment to breathe. “We need to regroup, and report back to—” He broke off as they rounded the next corner and had suddenly reached the top. He held his breath for a moment, despite the painful pounding of his exhausted lungs and heart, while Mikasa listened at the back of the bookcase. But all was silent. She pushed, and the heavy door swung open with a slight creak.

They stepped into the study, preparing to slip back into stealth mode. But there was a sudden series of clicks, and Armin found himself staring down the muzzle of a rifle.

“Hands in the air!” a voice demanded, harsh and authoritative. Armin obeyed slowly, glancing around. Eren and Mikasa were in the same position. Eren glowered back at the attackers, but Mikasa was tense, teeth clenched in frustration. With her speed, it would be easy to knock the gun away from her, but she wouldn’t risk the trigger being pulled on the other two.

Armin cursed himself for getting so caught up in their discovery. It was nothing but careless of them to have been talking so loud, they should’ve assumed that someone might hear them – or, he thought, his heart dropping into his stomach, what if the others had been caught? His eyes darted over their assailants, checking for any signs of a scuffle. There were four of them, surrounding the bookshelf, their uniforms pristine. Uniforms…?

“Who are you, and what are you doing?” Barked the one who looked like the leader. Those weren’t Military Police uniforms. “Answer me!”

“Wait,” commanded another voice suddenly, and Armin noticed movement deeper in the room, behind the row of soldiers. “Stand down.”

The guards faltered momentarily, and then a young woman came fully into view behind them. Her cold blue eyes narrowed, and then widened.

“Eren?” She asked, incredulity tinting her voice. And there before them stood Queen Historia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the longer chapter this time helps make up for the lateness! Thank you everyone for being so supportive and patient with me. <3 
> 
> In other news, I have a more concrete idea now of how much longer this fic will run, so it's tentatively slated for 44 chapters. That still might change in case something runs long and I need to split the chapters up more, but for now I've got the broad strokes planned out. We're getting into the endgame here and I hope you're as excited as I am!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you have a great day/night!


	36. Confluence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paths cross with an influential ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: So apparently AO3 has been sending out multiple update emails to subscribers when I haven't touched anything? I am so sorry if you guys have been getting spammed, I have no idea why it's happening. If it's a big problem, please let me know and I can try to contact someone to figure it out! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this actual chapter update!

“Historia,” Eren returned, sounding more than a little baffled. “What are you doing here?”

Her guards bristled at this blunt informality, but Historia waved them off, a little impatiently. “I might ask you the same thing.” She addressed the guards now, her voice taking on an edge. “I _said_ stand down. These are friends of mine.”

Armin breathed a sigh of relief as the guns were finally lowered.

Historia’s gaze passed over the trio. “Mikasa. Armin,” she greeted. She had already masked her confusion. Her expression was statuesque – beautiful, but unreadable. She was still in her traveling clothes, hair half-up, a long cloak of muted burgundy draped over a plain blouse and riding pants. She wasn’t dressed like royalty at all, but she exuded a powerful self-assurance that seemed to overtake the room.

“Queen Historia,” Armin greeted, unsure of whether he should bow in this situation. “It’s… nice to see you again.” Mikasa only gave her a silent nod, still in a wary staring contest with the guards.

“It’s certainly a surprise,” Historia replied, taking in Eren and Armin’s dirty and disheveled appearance with a quirked eyebrow. “Did you know I was going to be here?”

“Yeah. Well, no,” Eren corrected himself, shaking his head as he organized his thoughts. “We didn’t know when we came to Jalrut. But we heard from one of the locals.”

“I see.” Historia gave a brief nod, her brows lowering.

“It’s lucky we ran into you,” Armin said. “That local had some things she wanted you to know…”

“About what an awfully-run town this is?” Historia finished for him. He blinked and nodded. “Yeah. I can tell. You asked what I was doing here? I was snooping.” She gave a thin smile. “The difference between the villagers’ homes and the tower I’m supposed to be staying in is pretty stark. And they’ve clearly bent over backwards to make things cushy for me.” Her smile faded. “Even if I couldn’t tell when people are being fake, the fact that this is the best reception I’ve had in a while is enough to make anyone suspicious.”

Armin exchanged a glance with Eren. “What do you mean?”

She gave an offhanded shrug. “Most of the town visits I’ve made lately haven’t really had the intended effect. But there’s not much I can personally do about crops failing.” She frowned, and for a brief moment her face looked troubled. “Some places have been outright hostile and blaming me for it. The last thing I need is for superstition to get in my way when there might well be a blight coming. It doesn’t help that the Capital’s stores are running low either, so I can’t have as much aid distributed…”

“What?” Eren broke in, a note of shock in his voice. “A blight?” Even Mikasa had turned all her focus to Historia now, her eyes slightly widened. Armin felt a knot of dread settle into the pit of his stomach.

Historia glanced between the three of them, and realized that they were serious. “You… really don’t know?” She asked incredulously. “What have you even been doing?”

Eren grimaced.

“We’ve been a little out of touch,” Armin said hurriedly. “And we’ll explain in a minute. I knew that there have been some bad harvests since we reclaimed Maria, but…” he frowned in thought. “Now that you mention it, we’ve had a hard time foraging while we’ve been on the road…”

“Game’s been scarce, too,” Mikasa added quietly.

Historia nodded grimly. “It’s been even worse for the farm towns,” she told them. “It’s been getting to be more of a problem over the past year or so, but during this spring and summer harvests, all the crops just… started to die.”

Armin exchanged a worried glance with Eren and Mikasa.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Eren said, frowning. “Jalrut’s harvests seem to be doing okay. Aside from, well.” He looked pointedly around the room.

“Speaking of,” Historia said, folding her arms and looking at them expectantly. “Your turn. If you guys are here, there’s definitely something going on. And I want to know what it is.” She flicked her eyes at the bookcase behind them for emphasis.

Mikasa leveled her gaze at the four guards, and stared.

Historia sighed and turned to her soldiers. “Wait outside the door.”

One of the guards hesitated briefly on the way out, but obeyed nonetheless. The door clicked shut behind them. Historia turned back to her former teammates, waiting.

Eren and Mikasa looked to Armin, deferring to him. He took a breath and briefly explained the Survey Corps’ acquisition of the balloon and their discovery of the Military Police documents, though he heavily glossed over some of the details in between. The moment Adler’s name came up, Historia scowled. But she let Armin finish, listening intently.

“…so, we came to Jalrut to check the theory that there might be a tunnel leading to that point outside the Walls,” he finished.

“I assume you found it,” Historia said dryly, with another glance at the bookshelf. Armin nodded. She heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Adler.” She practically spat the name. “That man is like an ant. Hard to stomp down.”

“He’s caused you trouble before?” Eren asked. In Armin’s distant memory, he recalled Hanji saying something about a tribunal.

“Never directly. But I’ve heard rumors that he likes to flout protocol, and I’d believe it. He doesn’t flatter the way other officials do, he’s got this… smugness to him. Like he’s always got something he’s holding over your head.” She scowled and Armin swallowed the nauseous lump that had started to form in his throat. “But he’s hidden behind all sorts of political layers, and with everything else I need to do, I haven’t had a solid excuse to get rid of him.” Then she fixed her gaze on Armin. “That’s changed now, though. This is clear evidence of treason.”

Armin nodded, his lips pressed tight. But he was okay – would be okay, as long as he kept his mind focused only on the words themselves, refusing to let his thoughts dip below that surface layer into the well of images and sensations and memories he’d already shoved to the depths of his brain. He stood tall against it. He was fine.

“Are you gonna arrest him?” Eren asked, viciousness underlying his tone.

Historia nodded. “As soon as I can… Although, maybe it will be better to coordinate with the Survey Corps on this. I’ll need to secure Jalrut, too, and I don’t have the forces with me to do any fighting right here and now. I’ll pretend not to know anything until I get back to the Capital… that would be best for you too, right?”

“Probably,” Armin agreed. “The less they know about how much we’ve learned, the better.”

“Right.” Historia looked them over. “And where can I find the local who helped you? I’d like to talk to her myself.”

“I’m not sure if she’s still by the stables or not,” Eren replied. “But she lives near the center of town, in the modified barn with the weathervane. Her name’s Ker. And her partner, uh…”

“Alina,” Mikasa supplied.

A strange expression flickered across Historia’s face then, partly wistful, partly bitter, and partly something else entirely. Armin recognized it part of it, had felt part of it not two weeks ago when they’d fled into the forest, but the other part of it he could only imagine, and even just imagining it he had to fight the urge to reach for Eren.

But it was only a flicker, and then she regained her Queenly composure, sucking in a breath. “I’ll be sure to pay her a visit. Now—”

Before she could continue, though, there was a sharp warning rap on the door, and then a commotion from the hall.

“What is the meaning of this? Who are you?!” A muffled voice demanded angrily.

Historia gestured to the trio, but they were already ducking down behind the desk. Armin made sure the bookshelf doorway was securely shut. There was the sound of a scuffle in the hall, and Historia called out, “It’s alright.”

The door opened. Armin, looking around, noticed a mirror mounted on one of the walls, and in it he could see a stout man, slightly disheveled and flanked by Historia’s guards. It was the man from the root cellar – it was Sotts.

His anger turned to confusion, then to alarmed recognition when he realized who was standing in his study. But he smoothed it over quickly, putting on an air of charmed surprise.

“Your Majesty,” he said, with a sweeping bow. “My deepest apologies for my tone. I did not expect to find you here.” As he straightened, Armin saw his eyes flick to the bookshelf.

“Think nothing of it,” Historia replied sweetly. “Are you the master of this estate?”

“Yes, ma’am. Digley Sotts, at your service.” He bowed low once again. “Terribly sorry I didn’t greet you sooner – I’m afraid our preparations for your stay have gotten rather last-minute.” There was wariness mixed into his ingratiating tone. “Were your quarters in the tower not to your liking?”

“They’re lovely,” she said, honey dripping from her voice. “I simply thought I should come give my regards to such an influential town figure as yourself. I apologize for intruding into your study. I began to feel a little faint and needed a moment to compose myself, it must be exhaustion from the long ride…”

She gave an airy sigh, and Armin suppressed the urge to snort. But it worked – Sotts stood a little straighter, and through the mirror Armin saw some of the caution leave his face.

“Perhaps you should rest,” Sotts suggested, with a simpering smile.

“Perhaps,” Historia said. “Though I would so love it if you might give me a tour of your estate? It’s quite… remarkable.”

“Of course!” Sotts puffed up his chest. “I am at your service, Your Majesty. I only hope to make a good impression, despite this humble town.”

“How generous,” she replied, and if Sotts knew her better, he might’ve caught the cold flatness underlying her gracious tone. But he had already assured himself that he had the upper hand.

“After you, my lady,” he said, trying to bow her out of the study. His gaze flicked once again to the bookshelf.

“Oh, no,” Historia said evenly. “You’re my guide. It’s only fitting that you lead the way.”

Sotts faltered, but the firmness of her tone left no room for argument. “Of course,” he said. “Right this way, Your Majesty.” He left the room. A moment later, Historia briefly entered the view of the mirror. She paused only to send a glance in the direction of the desk, and then the door clicked shut behind her, and they were gone.

The trio waited until Sotts’ voice had faded completely before they emerged from behind the desk.

“Lucky for us she was here,” Eren muttered.

Armin nodded his agreement. It had only been maybe half an hour, he guessed, since they’d arrived at Sotts’ estate. He could only imagine how much more difficult this would’ve been if the whole town hadn’t been in chaos to welcome Historia.

“We’d better get back to the others,” he said. “Now that we know for sure that the tunnel exists, we’ll need to regroup and move on to the next part of the operation.”

“Whatever that is,” Mikasa added wryly.

They slipped back through the house the way they had come. Armin’s heart was pounding again like it had been on the way back up to the study. They had really done it, and now a whole new world of possibility spread out before him. They’d found the tunnel, and Armin’s whole body was thrumming with the sure knowledge that _something_ was out there. And they were going to it. His steps were sure, and his chest buzzed with an excited energy that he hadn’t felt since… but he stopped himself from finishing that thought.

They made it back through the servant’s passageway and into the stables to find it deserted. Had the others gone back to the wagon? Had they been discovered and chased off? But before they could make it back to the exit, Mikasa suddenly stopped in her tracks. A split second later, Armin heard it too – heavy scuffling, and cursing. There was no time to make it to the door, and Armin tugged Eren and Mikasa down behind the same stack of hay bales from before. It was a tight squeeze with all three of them, and he prayed that whoever was coming wouldn’t look around too closely.

The front gate burst open, and Armin saw two shadows flit across the hay-covered floor before there came the sharp _thud_ of someone hitting the wall with some force. The horses nickered indignantly in their stalls.

“…said I’m working on fixing it!” Someone gasped. It was Doran again. But gone was any trace of haughty condescension in his voice. Instead, there was only pleading fear, and pain. “I’m fixing it, I swear—”

“There _is_ no fixing it,” snapped another voice, harsh and cold, and Armin’s blood turned to ice. “You disobeyed me.”

Adler.


	37. Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin encounters unpleasant memories at an inopportune time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Implied violence, minor descriptions of blood

_“I could do this all day, you know,” Adler says casually, examining his knuckles where they’d just connected with Armin’s throat. “Come now. If you give me what I want, this can all be over.”_

_Armin is choking and gasping ragged breaths. Adler is a blur through the tears of pain in his eyes and the pounding in his head, but still he can see the stark white crescent of his grin. Despite his exhaustion, agony, Armin feels the boiling heat of anger in his stomach._

_“You,” he gasps, his voice a horrible dry croak, “you know I don’t know what you’re asking me for.”_

_“And how do you know that?” Adler asks, his voice as patient and calm as ever._

_“If you really wanted me to talk,” Armin spits, “you wouldn’t risk damaging my voice.”_

_Adler’s smile vanishes. Armin says something else but suddenly Adler is upon him again, his hair is being yanked back and blows are raining down on him to the backdrop of Adler’s furious voice, hands grabbing at him—_

There were hands grabbing at him and Armin flinched before he remembered where he was, the harsh iron reek of his own blood giving way to the sweet scent of hay on a warm morning, realized it was Eren and Mikasa clutching at his shoulders. He felt his hands clenched tight over his mouth. Felt his breath come fast and shallow through his nose. Felt his eyes stretched wide, fixed unseeingly on the hay bale in front of him, vision blurred. All he could hear was his heart thundering in his head, and Adler’s voice from the other side of the room.

“Sotts insisted—”

“ _Sotts?_ ” Adler barked, cutting Doran off, and Armin flinched again. “Sotts is a _moron._ I know full well how you like to play both sides. But _you. Work. For me._ And if Sotts gets too big for his britches, it’s _your_ job to cut him down a few sizes.”

“I—” Doran tried, but Adler gave a sharp hiss and he was silenced immediately.

“Listen. Do you hear that?”

They fell silent. Armin’s hands pressed even tighter against his mouth as if that could help anything, as if the sound of his frantic heartbeat and rattling bones weren’t filling the whole room, and any moment a shadow would fall over their hiding place and that awful leer would be upon him again, he’d be dragged back down to that freezing dungeon. And this time, he was sure it would kill him.

“What does that sound like to you?”

“Y-yelling—”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Adler hissed, and Armin realized distantly that he must be referring to the clamoring voices from town. It was little comfort. “Yelling. And they’re yelling because they live in a shithole town and they want the Queen to do something about it. Well _guess_ what,” he said, his voice growing louder, and there was something off in it. “This busybody Queen _will_ do something about it, and we _cannot_ afford her finding out about our operations! I _ordered_ you,” Adler’s words were beginning to run together, the rhythm growing more erratic. “I _ordered_ you to use that money to fix up this rat’s nest and quiet the peasants down. And _you_ let Sotts go and spend it on some fancy trinkets to distract a Queen who spends her free time running around in the dirt with orphans!” He was full-on yelling now, and somewhere there was scuffling and dull thuds and pained noises from Doran but Armin could barely hear them over the pounding in his own ears, hunched in on himself and trying desperately not to make a sound.

Eren and Mikasa pressed close on either side, their grip tight and grounding as Armin struggled against the panic closing on around him. He was burning from the inside out, lungs filled with searing smoke even as his skin prickled with goosebumps, cold sweat sticking his shirt to him.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he heard Eren hiss under the sounds of the beating. His voice was raw, choked, fist clenched over Armin’s shoulder almost painfully. Almost.

He didn’t catch what Mikasa said in response, but her voice was edged with something harsh.

And in that moment, Armin wanted to do it, too. He wanted to leap over the hay bales, hear Adler’s gasp of shock as he yanked him back by the throat, shoved him down to the floor, see how _he_ felt being pummeled and brutalized for no other reason than that it _felt good_ —

“Major!” A horrified voice cut in, and Armin was yanked abruptly out of his delusion. Replacing it was bile rising in his throat. “What are you—?”

There was a jolting noise, and then the sound of something heavy sliding to the floor.

“What am _I_ doing?” Adler spat. He was breathing heavily but struggling to control his tone. “What are _you_ doing? All four of you should be _downstairs._ ”

“W-well,” the newcomer stammered – it was the woman who’d been guarding the tunnel. She sounded on the verge of panic. “Sir, there was a noise, and—”

“A _noise!_ ” Adler scoffed, but it was almost a screech. But before he could continue, the door to the servants’ passage opened, and someone made a strangled sound.

“D-Doran?” Squeaked the new voice, sounding nauseous. And then, incredulous, “Major Adler?!”

“Get back to work, Ives,” Adler snapped.

“Wh-what are you doing? The Queen is here in the house right now, if she sees this…!”

The commotion grew, raised voices mixing with the distressed whinnying and stamping of the horses in their stalls. Armin felt his friends’ grip on him tighten, and distantly, he knew why – the more people who piled into the room, the more likely it was that they’d be spotted. But it seemed like an irrelevant worry, like everything was happening through water, muffled and warped and somewhere else. All Armin could do was focus on trying to breathe.

A sudden loud crash from outside silenced the argument. And then Adler’s voice took over again, barking orders.

“You four, back to your posts!” He snapped to the guards, and then his voice took on a menacing tone. “I’ll deal with you later. Ives, make sure the Queen doesn’t come in here until this mess has been cleaned up.”

There was a meek chorus of yes sirs and the scramble of footsteps as everyone hurried to obey. Five sets of feet hurried to the servants’ corridor, and Adler’s went the other direction. A door slammed, a gate squealed, and then the only sound was the faint, wheezing breaths of Doran.

“C’mon,” someone whispered, and Armin felt hands tugging at his shoulders. “We need to get out—”

He was pulled to his feet and his body reacted automatically, trying to support himself on legs that felt brittle and weak. He realized that his hands were still clamped over his mouth and forced himself to wrench them away. Mikasa took one of them, unflinching at his damp palm, pulling him away from their hiding spot. Eren’s hand was on his shoulder, steering him as he stumbled after her. As they emerged from behind the hay bales, Armin glimpsed Doran’s hulking form slumped in an unconscious heap on the stable floor, his face swelling with ugly bruises and oozing blood where the skin had broken. Armin turned away, his free hand flying to his mouth again.

“This way,” a voice hissed, and there was Hanji crouched in the entrance to the back storeroom. “Hurry!”

They followed Hanji back outside the way they had come, but the wagon was gone, and nobody else was in sight. Hanji’s face was a stony, tight-lipped mask. “Come on,” they urged in a hushed voice, leading them along the shadowed base of Wall Rose. “People started coming by and we had to move – Rook’s providing a distraction—”

They hurried along the Wall, slipping through the tight space behind the other storehouses as they left Sotts’ estate behind. Armin’s legs moved automatically but the motion seemed to sap his breath away and leave him winded. He struggled to draw air through his constricted throat.

But suddenly they came to an abrupt stop as they emerged from behind one of the buildings and came upon the wagon. Ker was standing by the back, trying to look casual. She locked eyes with Hanji and immediately turned to leap into the driver’s seat.

Armin was ushered to the back and he climbed numbly into the wagon. Eren’s palm moved from his shoulder to grip tight at his hand instead, and he heard Sasha’s voice as if from a distance asking in alarm if he was okay.

Something inside him snapped to attention. What was he _doing?_ He was a soldier, he had a job to do, he couldn’t let a few bad memories render him useless like this, had he learned nothing? Armin clenched his teeth as the little voice berated him. If they’d been in battle, if they’d been seen, he might’ve gotten all of them killed. Eren’s desperate, bloodied face and outstretched arm flashed before his eyes and he felt bile on his tongue again. He clutched back at Eren’s warm hand and found the presence of mind to breathe, and struggled to focus on the conversation happening around him.

“…followed him down, and found the tunnel,” Mikasa was reporting to Hanji. Her voice was clipped and tense, a mix of anger and urgency.

“I knew it,” Hanji breathed. But instead of going on an excited tangent they continued, their tone grim. “Great. We don’t have to risk sticking around any longer, then.” There was the sound of movement as someone pushed onto their feet. “Mikasa, tie their hands again.”

Mikasa protested, but Hanji cut her off. “I know, I’m not gonna make them run behind us again. But if anyone decides to check us, we need to keep up the pretense.” Their voice was firm. “If we’re lucky, everyone will be too distracted to bother with us, but if not, I’ll find some excuse. Okay?”

There was a silence during which Mikasa must have nodded, because a moment later there was the sound of Hanji murmuring out the front to Ker. Then the wagon creaked as it began to move.

Nobody spoke and Armin kept his head down, keenly aware of Sasha’s fidgety presence and not wanting to meet her gaze. His heart still wouldn’t settle into a regular pace, there was still that phantom ringing in his ears, he felt cold and sweat matted his hair to the back of his neck. But he would hold it together. He had to.

Mikasa’s footsteps came around to him and her calloused hands slipped into view, brushing his own. He pulled away from Eren’s grip to hold his heavy wrists up for her to bind, and forced himself to look up at her. Her dark eyes were probing and worried, and guilt wrenched into Armin’s heart for making them have to go through this again.

“It’s okay,” he managed. His voice came out hoarse and parched. “I’m okay.” He didn’t sound convincing, but even the fact that he tried seemed to relieve her a little. She squeezed his hand before moving on to Eren, who sat close against his side, anxiety radiating off him.

Nobody stopped them on their way back to Ker’s. Rook had already made it back, and was discussing something with Alina as they all piled out of the wagon and into the stables, careful to stay out of sight of the street. Rook hurried over.

“Our damaged axle is fixed,” she reported. “All we need to do is ready the horses, and then we can go.”

Mikasa darted off to help. The three “captives” were stuck in the shadows, and Sasha began to chatter nervously to fill the space.

“So you guys actually went into the tunnel, right? We found it too… Well, sort of, anyway. I found this pulley hanging down by one of the posts, and when I tugged on it, the whole floor moved! Well, not the _whole_ floor, but a big chunk of it, where there was open space, y’know? There were more pulleys too, Hanji said it was a lift, but we couldn’t go down because we didn’t know if anyone might be down there. But after that this lady rushed in and we had to move…”

“Oh,” Eren said, sounding distracted. “Yeah, that was— There was a guard down there, she noticed you messing with the lift.”

“We’re ready,” Hanji called, beckoning them over as their wagon pulled around to the front of the barn. Mikasa helped them into the back while Ker hovered nearby.

“What about the Queen?” Ker asked.

Hanji hesitated, but Mikasa didn’t miss a beat. “We saw her,” she said. “We told her what you said. Don’t worry.” Then she turned briskly and climbed into the wagon herself, taking up her borrowed rifle.

Ker pressed her lips together and nodded. “Thanks,” she said solemnly, Alina drawing close to her side. “We owe ya.”

“You’ve already done plenty,” Hanji said. A brief but genuine smile flashed onto their lips, and in that moment, they looked like themself again. “We won’t forget that.” They disappeared from view, and a moment later Armin heard them climb up front with Rook.

“Take care now,” Ker said, and the wagon began to move. Mikasa tugged the canvas flap shut over the back, and Ker, Alina, and the old barn with the creaky weathervane vanished.

A tense silence fell over them. Armin focused on the movement of the wagon, smoother now that the axle had been fixed, but still slightly stomach-turning thanks to the unevenness of the road. Somehow he felt even more exhausted than he had last night. He wished he could just curl up, rest his head in Eren’s lap, and sleep. But they weren’t out of danger yet. He had to stay alert. _Get_ alert. He had to be okay, so he could do his job. Look out for his friends. Function.

The wagon inched through Jalrut. Voices clamored from just outside, a mixture of anger and excitement as the townsfolk thronged around the central tower. Their yelling pummeled Armin’s eardrums like a battering ram, and he felt his lips press tight as if that could help it. But eventually, finally, they were free of the worst of the crowd, and from there it was a smooth shot to the checkpoint at the entrance to town.

The front flap was open a sliver, and through it Armin could see the edge of the guardhouse, and the open road beyond. They were almost out – but then the wagon slowed again as one of the guards presumably waved them down.

“Didn’t see you come in today,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said as they came to a halt. “You with Her Majesty?”

“No, we came in yesterday for a delivery,” Hanji replied coolly. “We stayed the night to do some repairs.”

“I see. I’m gonna need to check yer ledgers,” he said.

“Hold up,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I remember them.” Her tone was dark with suspicion. “Where’s yer thieves? You might’a heard, but we had a break-in last night, an’ you lot were the only outsiders who stayed in town.”

Hanji made a disdainful noise. “It certainly wasn’t us. The thieves are in the back, present and accounted for.”

“Not runnin’ ‘em today?”

“It’s a long way home. I won’t have them dying on me before I can put them to use.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

“If you must.”

A moment passed and then the back flaps were tugged open. The woman poked her head in, taking in each of the passengers and the otherwise empty cabin with narrowed eyes. Satisfied, she let the tarp fall.

“Everyone’s here,” she informed the other guard. “They’re clear.”

“Can we go now?” Hanji asked impatiently.

“In a minute,” the woman said. “We still gotta check yer ledger. Ya got it signed, right?”

“Oh— Ah, goodness me.” Hanji’s voice suddenly sounded stiff and forced. “I think this heat is getting to me. Take care of the rest, Rook, will you? Ta-ta,” they babbled. A moment later, despite the guard’s confused protests, Hanji clambered from the platform into the wagon, face pale.

“Sorry about that,” Rook was hurriedly apologizing. “Here’s the ledger, we got the signature…”

“What happened?” Eren hissed.

_Adler,_ Hanji mouthed, and Armin’s core shuddered, his lungs seizing up again. “Not sure if he recognized me – but he was coming this way, definitely looked in our direction,” they whispered.

Mikasa gripped her rifle more firmly, eyes flashing.

And then there was that voice again, harsh and chilling, no trace of its earlier agitation. “What did I hear about thieves?”

“O-Oh, hello, sir,” the woman said, sounding suddenly anxious. “This group just captured some thieves who tried to rob ‘em on their way here.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question. “How convenient. And they’re in the back?”

“Yes sir,” her voice followed footsteps along the side of the wagon. “I already checked—”

“Considering last night’s incident,” Adler’s sharp voice cut her off. “It seems more appropriate to bring all suspicious persons in for questioning.”

The tarp fluttered. Thin, pale fingers curled around the edge.

“GO!” Hanji bellowed, and immediately Rook took off, spurring the horses to full speed. The tarp yanked out behind them, and in the split second before it fell again Armin saw Adler’s narrow frame standing there, frozen in place, thin lips pressed into a furious line, eyes blazing right into Armin’s.

Somewhere, the guards were yelling in alarm, and somewhere, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. But the wagon hurtled away, bucking violently on the rough road, and before long, Jalrut was just a speck on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes another arc! Sorry it's so late, I got slowed down in the revision process for this one. But my writing stayed on track, so to make up for it I'm going to post the next chapter this coming Saturday before going back to the two-week update schedule. I hope you'll enjoy it and thanks again for sticking with this! (Also the future chapters won't be so OC-heavy, sorry about that)


	38. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin regroups.

A whip cracked, and Armin watched the wagon trundle away down the road, driven by the confused and frightened rightful owners.

“Quick,” Levi hissed, beckoning the rest of them back into the forest where they’d first intercepted the wagon. Rook and Eren ushered their horses into the trees and Sasha used a branch to clear their stray footprints off the dusty road as best she could. Armin clutched the supply bag they’d brought with them, wanting to feel useful, though his fingers seemed to have no strength in them. He kept them clamped around the strap by sheer force of will alone.

No one had come after them yet. Rationally, Armin knew it would take time for any pursuers to get to their horses, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Adler would come barreling down on them from behind at any moment. He kept glancing back as he followed the rest of the group into the forest, neck prickling and ears straining for any sound of the chase.

“We need to put some distance between us and the road,” Hanji urged. “This way.”

The underbrush was too thick to ride through, and they led the horses over the treacherous ground in silence. Armin was grateful for the space. He did his best to ignore the worried glances he felt cast back at him every so often. He walked, and breathed, and listened to the forest in hopes that it would drown out the frantic churning of his mind.

At length, they reached a point where the woods thinned out. They’d be able to ride again. Levi ordered them to stop and saddle up the two horses that had been hitched to the wagon. Hurst and Sasha hurried to obey.

Out of the corner of his eye, Armin saw Eren turn to take a step towards him, but was stopped when Levi called his name.

“Jaeger. Over here.” He beckoned Eren to where he and Hanji were huddled together in conference. Eren faltered. Armin pretended not to see. “ _Now,_ ” Levi snapped, and Eren reluctantly obeyed.

Armin glimpsed movement from his other side and noticed Mikasa nearby, looking him over as she approached. His mouth tasted bitter before she even said anything.

“Okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine,” Armin said, more sharply than he intended. Then he deflated, hearing the echo of his own words again, in a different forest, on a different day. But he didn’t want to repeat what he knew had been mistakes. He inhaled deeply. “Sorry. I’m sorry I froze up before. I could’ve gotten us all into trouble.”

Mikasa hesitated, and then shrugged. “I would’ve dealt with it.”

Armin smiled bitterly, his gaze drifting away. Everyone else was busy with their tasks. Eren was making his report, shifting restlessly, running his hand through his hair. They all seemed like they were in a separate world. “I know you would’ve,” he said. “But you shouldn’t have to. I… We can’t afford it.” Armin sighed, continuing on despite Mikasa’s frown. “I tried to just… shut out everything that happened,” he confided quietly. “But seeing him, seeing… _Adler._ ” He forced himself to say it, the name grating out from his throat. “It caught me too off-guard. That was my mistake. And I’m sorry.” He took a breath and stood up a little straighter.

Mikasa looked like she wasn’t sure how to react. She settled on a brief, awkward nod, and let her hand rest on his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing,” she said shortly.

Armin opened his mouth and immediately clamped it shut again, and Mikasa rolled her eyes knowingly.

“Thanks,” he said instead. She squeezed his shoulder in response.

“Mount up!” Levi’s voice suddenly rang out as he broke away from Eren and Hanji to stride toward his horse. His expression was hard and unreadable, and Hanji was pale. “We’re heading straight to Halheim. No breaks.”

“Halheim?” Sasha paused in adjusting her horse’s saddle to frown in confusion. “We’re not going back to base?”

“Not yet. There’s something else we have to do first.” Levi swung himself into his saddle. He offered no further explanation.

Mikasa gave Armin a nod and stepped away to mount up. Eren was next to his own horse, the reins loose in his hand, waiting for Armin.

“Should I?” He asked as Armin approached.

Armin shook his head. “I’ll steer,” he said. Riding would be a good distraction – something to take up his focus so he didn’t get dragged down in the undertow of his thoughts.

Eren didn’t question it, just stood back to let him up first. Despite his still-shaky knees, Armin thankfully made it into the saddle without slipping. A moment later Eren climbed up behind him, warm body fitting firmly against Armin’s back.

Armin pulled the reins into his hands. Mikasa gestured for them to go before her and they fell into line with the others, Mikasa bringing up the rear.

The troop eased into their silent rhythm, a chain of horses trailing one after the other around trees and underbrush. Armin focused on following Sasha’s path, nudging the mare this way and that. Eren’s arms wound around his waist, he felt Eren lean into him, felt his chin come to rest in the crook of his shoulder. Warm breath tickled at his neck. They said nothing. Armin felt the chill still numbing his limbs finally begin to ebb.

\--

It was well into the night when they finally reached their destination, and Armin was just as fatigued as the horses. He’d been struggling to stay alert for a while, only the bright glow of their swaying lanterns keeping him uncomfortably present. They had, in fact, made a single stop to rest and eat for a rushed few minutes before they’d bribed their way through the checkpoints upon heading back into Wall Maria territory. But other than that, the ride had been ceaseless and exhausting. Nobody had come after them yet, though. Armin wondered nervously if Adler had caught up to the wagon and its clueless owners, and hoped they were alright if he had.

They were back in the shelter of the trees now, after a few hours on a main road in the open. Armin was grateful for the cover, even though they’d gotten no more than a curious look from the scant handful of other travelers they’d passed on the way. These woods were much sparser than the ones they’d left behind, and they would disappear completely before they reached Halheim. Despite his exhaustion, Armin couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing here – Levi still hadn’t said anything, and they’d only attract attention if they strolled into town at this time of night.

But Levi stopped them before they left the cover of the trees and gestured for them to extinguish their lanterns. As their lights flickered out one by one, Armin became aware of a pinpoint glow a little way off the trail. And when he squinted, he saw that it illuminated a cottage door.

Levi held up a hand, a silent order for everyone to stay where they were. He alone dismounted, his small frame disappearing momentarily in the shadows before reemerging in the circle of light around the door. He knocked, sharply, the rhythm brief but distinct. Four knocks. Then he waited, hand hovering by his holster. A few moments passed in dead silence, as if even the horses were holding their breath.

Then, from beyond the door, an answering knock, a different pattern, and the tension eased from Levi’s shoulders. A lock clicked. The door opened. And there stood Jean.

“Corporal,” he said, sounding relieved. “You made it.” He looked up, squinting into the darkness over Levi’s head. “The others?”

“They’re here.” Levi’s voice was clipped. “All but one. We lost Tiller at the safehouse.”

Armin couldn’t read Jean’s expression from this distance. But he felt Eren’s fingers tighten where his hand rested on his hip. Armin leaned slightly back into him.

Levi was speaking again. “…everything ready?”

“Yes, sir. The others are in town waiting for the signal.”

“Good.”

Levi turned and finally gestured to the rest of them, and there was a collective sigh as they moved to wearily dismount. Armin’s feet made contact with solid ground again and he felt the impact in his skull. His legs wobbled momentarily and he stretched the ache out of them.

Jean unhooked the lantern from above the door. As he approached, the circle of light fell upon an old gate that Levi must have hopped over – it creaked heavily when he swung it open for them. “There’s a lean-to for the horses over there,” he said, tilting his head toward one side of the cottage. He kept his voice low.

“Good to see you again,” Sasha said as she passed by to lead her horse over. Even she was too drained to muster her usual energy, but she still had enough in her to give Jean a tired grin and a thump on the back.

He made a face at her filthy appearance. “You need a bath,” he retorted, but there was relief evident in his tone. His expression turned to one of bemusement when he saw Eren and Armin in the same state. “The hell’ve you guys been up to?”

“Long story,” Eren grumbled, giving the reluctant horse’s reins a little tug to encourage it the last few steps to rest. “Fill you in later.”

Jean huffed without any real irritation, then exchanged a nod with Mikasa as she passed.

They tied their horses alongside Jean’s under the makeshift shelter, then filed inside the tiny cottage with their bedrolls. The one-floor dwelling had only three rooms, and little furnishing – a bedroom with a one-person cot, a kitchen, and a living space with an old couch along the wall, where it looked like Jean had been sleeping.

“Get some rest,” Levi ordered. “We’ll have a briefing first thing in the morning. Kirschtein, you take first watch. I’ll take second.”

“Yes, sir.” Jean saluted. His eyes flicked over Eren, Armin, and Sasha. “There’s a bathhouse out back,” he informed them pointedly, wrinkling his nose a little. “In case you wanna use it.”

Eren heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank Sina. I can’t wait to be clean again.”

“You guys can go.” Sasha waved them away, suppressing a large yawn. “I just wanna sleep for now. Hey Jean, can I take the couch?”

She was already inching towards it as she asked, and Jean darted over to block her. “Hell no, you’re disgusting,” he retorted. “Go dirty your own bedroll. Mikasa, you can take it if you want, though,” he offered, glancing over to Mikasa.

“I’m fine.” She was already spreading her bedroll out on the floor.

Eren turned towards the door and paused expectantly, waiting for Armin. Armin hesitated for a moment, torn between his mind-numbing exhaustion and the desire to get cleaned up. He might’ve opted for Sasha’s route and collapsed into his bedroll, but there was a kind of uncomfortable restlessness clenched in his ribs, and the brightness in Eren’s gaze, so easily sparked at the prospect of a bath, won him over.

“Okay. I’m coming,” he answered Eren’s wordless question, and picked up the bag with their spare clothes.

\--

They readied the water in silence, opting to heat up the washbasin rather than the full-sized tub in the interest of time.

Eren struggled out of his dirty clothes, tossing them to one side in distaste. He scooped up a bowlful of steaming water and poured it over his head with a long, deep sigh of satisfaction. “God that feels good.”

Armin finished peeling off his own garments – they stuck to him like a second skin, and shedding them made him feel significantly lighter. Eren passed him the bowl. The first stream of hot water over his head was like a breath of fresh air. It spilled in thick rivulets down over his body, carving clear paths in the layer of dirt, and disappearing down through the latticework beneath his feet. He shivered as the night air, seeping in through the open windows high up by the small bathhouse’s ceiling, cooled his damp skin.

They passed the bowl between them, alternating the water with their military-issue soap bars, sloughing off the dirt and grime of the past few days in silence.

Armin watched Eren out of the corner of his eye. He had his head bowed, scrubbing soap fiercely through his hair, his movements jagged. Restless energy spilled off him in waves. When he spilled another bowlful of water over his head, straightening up and raking his hair back out of his face, his brows were set low over unfocused eyes.

Armin reached out, fingers brushing Eren’s side, and he blinked back to the present as he looked over. Armin nudged him around and he turned easily, and Armin took his own soap bar to Eren’s back.

“I’m okay, you know,” he said softly. It was more true than it had been earlier. There was still a writhing feeling inside him, like the world had shifted just a little bit without him, leaving him one step out of place in the universe. The desire to sleep for a decade warred with the creeping, returning fear of closing his eyes. But at least he was functional. He focused on the thin sheen of foam and the warm skin beneath his hand.

But Eren seemed to sense what he’d left unsaid, and his shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice caught somewhere between guilt and anger.

“Eren,” Armin sighed, but Eren cut him off.

“No, stop. I know what you’re gonna say. But just… God, Armin, I wish there was _something_ I could do.” He raked a hand through his hair, and Armin could imagine his scowl. “I hate it, I _hate_ having to just stand around like some useless—”

“ _Eren._ ” Armin cut him off and reached out. His hand found Eren’s wrist, sliding down it to slip his fingers between Eren’s and clasp at them. “You do plenty. I promise.” He let his head drop a little, forehead resting in the dip between Eren’s shoulder blades.

The tension in Eren’s frame held for a moment, tenuous, then finally relaxed as he let out a helpless sigh. He squeezed back at Armin’s fingers. “I’m glad you think so.”

Despite everything, Armin almost cracked a tiny smile at the pout in his voice. “Really,” he pressed. “Just you being here, with me, caring… it helps. More than I can say.” He nuzzled against him, breathing in the scent of soap and skin. _Where would I be without you?_ “Besides,” he continued with a sigh. “This… isn’t the kind of thing anyone can do anything about.”

“I could kill him,” Eren offered. He might’ve meant it to sound like a joke, but it didn’t.

Armin shook his head, drawing a shuddering breath and pulling away. “I just,” he began, his voice catching thickly. He swallowed, absentmindedly reaching for the bowl to rinse the suds from Eren’s back. He tried again, Eren turning to face him. “I just need to find a way to deal with this. So that what happened this morning doesn’t happen again.” He pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to let anyone else get hurt by this.” Eren gazed back at him, eyes dark with desperate sympathy. Armin’s heart twisted with love for him.

“Your turn,” Eren said, turning him gently with a hand on his shoulder. His palm trailed down to Armin’s elbow. Armin closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch.


	39. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information is shared, and reunions are had.

Armin opened his eyes to Mikasa shaking him awake. “Time to get up,” she murmured, and as he blinked himself into consciousness he became aware of movement around him, the familiar shuffles and yawns of people going about their morning routines, the wood floor creaking under their footsteps. For a moment, he was back in the barracks, and a comfortable nostalgia welled up in his chest. But as he dragged himself into alertness, he felt the hard floor beneath his bedroll, saw the foreign shape of the couch looming over him, felt the morning sun more faintly than in the barracks. He remembered where he was with the sinking knowledge that this wasn’t over yet.

He pushed himself upright, rubbing blearily at his eyes. As he took in the room, he noticed that most of the other bedrolls had already been packed up. “Did I oversleep?” He asked. The betrayal he felt must have seeped into his voice, because Mikasa shook her head quickly.

“You didn’t. We’re not in a rush right now, it seems. And you looked like you needed the rest.”

Armin relaxed a little, and Mikasa got to her feet. Hurst was rolling up his bedroll, and Rook was combing her hair. He looked over at the sound of the cottage door opening and saw Sasha stroll in, stretching leisurely, her hair clean and wet from a bath and dripping over her shoulders. He heard Eren and Jean’s voices from the kitchen, and from their tone he could tell that they were back at their bickering routine. Once again he was struck by an atmosphere that seemed jarringly peaceful. Armin tried to shake off the discomfort as he crawled out of his bedroll and moved to pack it up – there had to be some reason for this carefree morning, after all that had happened the past few days.

Mikasa spoke again, as if reading his thoughts. “They’re going to brief us after breakfast,” she told him.

“Okay. Thanks.” He offered her a tentative smile, and she returned it.

\--

“Okay!” Hanji’s palms came down flat on the small table. Breakfast had been cleared away and the group stood crowded around, shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight space. “So. As you may have guessed, there’s more to this plan now that we’ve confirmed our suspicions about Jalrut. But first, we need to get everybody on the same page.” They turned to Jean. “What’s the situation on base, Kirschtein?”

Jean snapped to attention. “Besides the so-called ‘auditor’ who sauntered into base to keep an eye on us, we’ve also had spies hemming us in since the week after your group left,” he said, nodding back at Hanji. “We were under orders to act like we hadn’t noticed their traces. But they would track anyone who left base, presumably hoping we’d lead them to you.” He scowled. “The Commander managed to use his connections to hire about twenty extra wagons for a decoy mission. He had them all come in and leave on the same day, and scatter – the spies couldn’t tail them all. My group made it to our destination without issue.”

“Your group?” Sasha asked with a frown. “It’s just you here, though.”

“The others have been waiting in town. I sent the signal first thing in the morning, so they’ll be on their way here soon.”

Hanji nodded approvingly. “Good. We’ll go meet them at the edge of the forest when they get close. It was a huge risk to bring you out here, not knowing whether this would even pay off or not. And we’re lucky that it did.” They tapped a blunt fingernail against the table’s surface. “I don’t think everyone here has gotten the full picture of what we found, though. Would you like to report on that?” They gestured broadly towards Armin, Eren, and Mikasa.

The three of them exchanged a glance, and Armin gave them a brief nod, squaring his shoulders. If he was going to take charge of this, this was as good a place as any to start.

“For those of you who don’t know, we discovered some confidential Military Police documents,” he began. He gave a brief explanation of their contents and the tunnel theory before describing their escapades in Jalrut with more detail. Jean’s face registered first skepticism, then astonishment. But when Armin mentioned the material that sculpted out the tunnel’s ceiling, everyone went pale.

“Wait. The tunnel was made of the same stuff as the Walls?” Jean’s voice cracked a little in his disbelief as Levi swore. “Are you sure you saw right?”

“We _all_ saw it,” Eren snapped. “It was obvious.”

“That can’t be,” Hanji said, leaning heavily on the table. “A Titan? With the MPs? Unless, I mean, that would explain how they were able to tunnel beneath the Walls in the first place though.” They laughed weakly as they babbled.

“But we know from the older records that the tunnels have been around for at least twenty years,” Mikasa pointed out. “Could the MPs really have kept a Titan shifter secret for that long? Or at all.” She and Eren exchanged a skeptical glance.

“The Reiss family managed it,” Armin said, shrugging. “But it’s also possible that the MPs weren’t involved in building the tunnels at all, and have just been using them…”

“Meaning, they could be just as old as the Walls,” Levi finished with a scowl.

“Right… I guess we can’t jump to conclusions yet.” Hanji raked a hand through their hair, calming down. “Anyway…”

“There was something else we found,” Mikasa said, then nudged Armin and pointed at her pocket.

“Oh, right—” Armin reached into his own, pulling out the record page he’d stolen from the tunnel guard’s desk and holding it out. “It seems the Military Police have been bringing something back from Outside… it’s called knaproot. Does that sound familiar to you?”

Hanji took the paper, frowning down at it. Levi peered over from their elbow. “No… Never heard of it. That’s a big shipment, though… Are they doing this consistently?”

“Somewhat sporadically, though they’ve been bringing back more and more lately.”

“Hmm… I guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves, then.”

Silence settled around the group for a moment as Hanji’s words processed.

“Wait,” Jean said, looking incredulous. “I thought—?”

Hanji leaned forward on the table, a familiar gleam in their eyes. “Listen up. Here’s the rest of the plan…”

\--

Armin took a deep breath, his hands pressed between his knees as he sat waiting on the sofa between Eren and Mikasa. He was trying to look calm despite the pounding of his heart – he knew Eren and Mikasa weren’t fooled, but Sasha and Jean were still in the room with them and he didn’t want to lose his composure.

Rook and Hurst were out on watch. Levi and Hanji were shut in the kitchen, discussing something in voices too low to carry through the thin wall. And the rest of them were left to wait in the mounting tension.

Sasha paced around and around the room, emanating an impatient energy. Jean, leaning against the wall by the front door with his arms folded, was looking increasingly aggravated.

“Will you stop that?” He finally snapped. “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Sorry.” She stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, shaking her limbs out instead. “I’m just excited.”

Jean stared at her in disbelief. “ _Excited?”_

“Not like—” She cut off, rolling her head back as she tried to find the words. “I just mean, we’ve been stuck out here for a while. _You_ wouldn’t know, you’ve been on base this whole time,” she said haughtily.

“Because _we_ were stuck there,” Jean retorted, but Sasha plowed ahead, talking over him.

“We _couldn’t_ go back, ‘cause of the MPs keeping watch. But now that you guys managed to bust out, they’re bound to make a move. Which means we can fight back. Which means we can clear those ants outta our base!” She pumped a fist in the air and then started jogging in place, a fervent gleam in her eyes.

Jean sighed. “I guess,” he conceded. His eyes turned to the trio on the sofa. “What’re you guys so quiet for, anyway? I thought you’d be thrilled by this whole ‘secret base outside the Walls’ thing.”

Armin felt Jean’s gaze linger on him, and he kept his eyes glued to his knees. He couldn’t begin to guess what rumors might have circulated while he’d been gone, or what Sasha may have said while he was out of earshot. Though they hadn’t had much interaction aside from Jean clapping him on the shoulder and saying it was good to see him safe, Armin could sense that now-familiar combination of curiosity and concern in the way his gaze kept darting over. But he resisted the urge to shrink.

An awkward silence fell as nobody replied. Armin glanced to his right and found that Eren wasn’t even paying attention – his face was drawn into an unconscious frown as he twisted his hands in his lap, heels scuffing back and forth on the wood floor. On his left, Mikasa sat motionless and pensive. But her eyes flicked over to Armin, as though uncertain of how much she should say.

So Armin spoke. “There’s just been a lot going on,” he said. It wasn’t really an answer. But Jean just shrugged, and didn’t push it.

“Yeah. I guess there has.”

“Do you think Historia will be okay?” Sasha asked, pausing in her stretching to look out the window, as if the forest held the answer. “We kinda left her in the bear’s den…”

“She’ll be fine.” Mikasa’s voice left no room for doubt. “She knows how to take care of herself.”

“She pretty much grew up in a bear’s den,” Jean agreed with a snort.

“I guess you’re right.” Looking reassured, Sasha resumed her stretching. “I guess she’s no worse-off than we are… I’m still impressed how you got past the MP spies.” She shifted gears, shooting Jean a wide grin. “I woulda loved to see their faces…”

“Yeah, well, it better pay off in the end, or we’ll be in trouble.” Jean made a face. “We had to scrape the bottom of our coffers in order to hire all those wagons.”

“Well, the alternative was to just sit around and wait until the MPs felt like making a move,” Armin said. “If they had decided to attack our base directly…” he trailed off, not needing to finish the thought.

“It’s only a matter of time until they do,” Mikasa said, her brows drawing inward. She cast the briefest of glances at Armin, and he knew what she was thinking. “Maybe the Commander could’ve found some excuse for the wagons, but we were seen in Jalrut. We’ve confirmed that we know what they’ve been trying to hide. They have no reason to hold back now.”

A grim silence settled over the room, and Sasha stilled her movements.

“No,” Armin said, surprising himself a little. “But now, neither do we.”

Then, from out in the woods, a whistle pierced the silence, and they all caught their breath in unison.

“They’re here,” Jean said, pushing off from the wall.

\--

Levi and Hanji led the way through the sparse trees, on their way to meet the wagon coming from Halheim. In the distance, the morning air was broken by the familiar sound of rattling wheels and the occasional nicker of a horse. Armin’s body thrummed with a nervous energy. He couldn’t quite place the emotion behind it. It felt like a lead weight in his legs, but he grit his teeth against it and forced them to keep moving, forward, step by step.

Eren was lagging behind though, trailing at the back of the group. He still wore his unfocused scowl, and Armin could practically see the thoughts churning away in his skull. Armin paused, letting the gap close between them. He slipped his hand into Eren’s and squeezed, falling into step beside him. Eren came out of his trance and looked around at Armin. His expression relaxed slightly as Armin held his gaze. His fingers tightened gratefully around Armin’s and for a few silent moments, they dwelled only on the familiar warmth between their palms.

“I’m okay,” Eren murmured, and then exhaled with a huff. “Just… worried.”

“Me too,” Armin admitted. “But all we can do is keep moving, right?”

Eren’s gaze softened, and he fixed Armin with an indescribable look. “Yeah,” he said, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. For a moment Armin found himself caught between wanting to turn away in embarrassment, and wanting to stare.

\--

The wagon rolled to a stop just at the edge of the fringe of trees, where the woods met a vast stretch of open land. In the distance to one side, Armin could see the tiny shapes of the buildings of Halheim, and on the other side, the stubby ridges forming the edge of the quarries.

A spry figure leapt from the wagon with a delighted shout and a split second later, Sasha had charged forward and caught him around the middle in a big bear hug, hollering right back. Connie laughed, limbs flailing in the air as he was lifted clear off the ground.

“ _Ahem.”_ Levi cleared his throat pointedly, scowling. Sasha hastily dropped Connie back down to the ground.

“Sorry, sir,” she apologized sheepishly. But she and Connie caught each other’s gazes, still grinning broadly.

Armin’s gaze was fixed on the wagon, though. Hanji was hurrying over to peer into the back. “You made sure you got all the parts, right?” They asked. Armin had almost expected Hanji to have fully regained their exuberance, but their tone held only a kind of grim urgency.

“We made sure,” Connie replied. “We got everything that was marked on your schematics.”

The wagon cut a stark shape against the emptiness of the fields beyond, tomb-like and imposing. Armin’s heart thundered like cart wheels, but he forced his breathing to remain steady. Was that dread or resolve that was clenched up in his chest? Maybe it was a little bit of both. Or maybe neither. His body seemed rooted in place, not wanting to take another step. But he had to.

He gave Eren’s palm one last squeeze before stepping forward, letting his fingers slip from Eren’s warm grasp. His legs seemed to drag like he was waist-deep in water as he moved towards the back of the wagon, where Hanji had already disappeared behind the tarp. His whole ribcage seemed to shudder under the force of his heartbeat. With a deep, shaky breath, he reached up to tug back the canvas flap.

And there it was, just like Armin remembered it. The mountain of folded fabric filling the far space of the wagon bed, tilted and uneven thanks to its irregular shape. The huge, snakelike coils of rope, the collapsible poles stacked on the ground, the bulky metal rectangle with its valves and tubes coiling up from the top. And the basket, its scuffed and faded wicker telling of a history that he finally knew. The basket, the only thing left of the original, the only thing the Survey Corps hadn’t made new.

He had touched that basket, and some of the decade’s worth of dust had come away on his fingers. He had climbed into that basket and ridden it up into the sky. He had touched what his parents had built, stood where they stood more than ten years ago in the thing that had caused their demise. Had his parents woven that basket themselves, with their own hands? How had they felt when they climbed over the rim and fired up their makeshift engine? Had they ever even dreamed that it might end up in their son’s hands the way it had? Had they wondered, as they were dragged through the depths of cold stone hallways, if he might someday follow them down? Had a cold crescent smile been the last thing they remembered?

Had they ever regretted it?

“Okay,” Hanji was muttering to themself, fumbling around in the wagon, touching each part of the dismembered balloon as if they couldn’t otherwise be sure it was really there. “Looks like we’ve got everything.” They turned and saw Armin, their lips pressed tight. “You ready?” Hanji asked.

Armin swallowed hard, and nodded.


	40. Dusk

“I should go,” Eren was insisting, following close on Levi’s heels as they led the wagon carefully through the narrow path to the cottage.

“For the last time, _no,_ ” Levi snapped, not breaking his stride.

“But sir—”

“Do you know what position we’ll be in if you die out there?” Levi shot him a scowl over his shoulder. “Humanity will have lost a key weapon, _and_ its symbol of hope.”

“I _know,_ ” Eren said, frustrated. “But—”

“ _No.”_

“Now, now,” Hanji interrupted, falling back a few steps to join them. They wore a pacifying smile, though it didn’t seem wholehearted. “We can sort out who’s going later. There’s still a lot to prepare first.”

Armin silently watched this exchange from beside the wagon. He could _feel_ the balloon on the other side of the tarp, like some kind of burning beacon. There was something restless and chattering in his chest, uncomfortable in that he couldn’t quite place it, in the way it clogged up the back of his throat like a cork stopper holding the building pressure in his ribcage. He felt caught between two magnetic forces, one trying to propel away from the balloon with a visceral revulsion, the other keeping him firmly fastened to it. Armin tasted bile, but he forced himself to keep walking, to keep his paces steady.

Finally, they rolled back up to the cottage.

“Okay,” Hanji said, clapping their hands together and expelling a breath. “Now… Well, now I guess we lay low until we figure this out.” Their arms fell, dropping limply to their sides.

“That’s it?” Sasha interjected, frowning. “We’re just… going back to sitting around? With all due respect,” she added hastily as Levi shot her a look.

“We won’t be just sitting around,” Hanji said patiently. “We’ll be working. It just might take some time.”

“Do we _have_ time?” Mikasa asked, her brows lowering. “Our base could be attacked at any point.”

“Trust me, I know.” A flicker of discontent broke through Hanji’s composure, then disappeared. “But the balloon only had one proper test launch. There are too many factors we still need to account for before we can risk launching it again. If we don’t, we’re bound to just crash and die anyway, and that’ll just make the MP’s job easier.” They grimaced. “For example, we’ll need to have enough fuel to make it there _and_ back, since we can’t count on getting back through the tunnel. But the main problem is that there’s currently no way to steer, and without that, we can’t even get there in the first place.” Hanji’s voice shifted into a mumbling contemplative tone as they slipped into problem-solving mode, talking half to themself. “A propeller might work, but there’s the issue of powering it, and the extra weight, and where we could get one made considering we're on the run, and there’ll be no way to test it in practice because we’ll be blowing our cover the moment we inflate the canopy…”

“In short,” Levi interrupted, “we don’t have much choice.”

\--

The sun was sinking, and the shadows of the trees were beginning to stretch tall. Armin stood leaning against the outside wall of the cottage, around the side near the bathhouse. He couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, settling for staring off into the trees as he kept himself breathing steadily. From the other side of the cottage he could hear the horses snuffling into their feed bags. Over there was the balloon, still packed into the wagon and under constant guard.

Armin had spent the rest of the afternoon listening to Hanji rattle on about propellers and weight distribution and various unfamiliar names of people who might be able to help. Hanji had requested that Armin take part in this planning session, since he was “a crucial part of the balloon’s development, and all.” He wanted to be helpful, and there was something teasing at the back of his mind. But there was so much else churning through his head, and every time he tried to reach for it, it slipped away. Eventually Hanji, perhaps picking up on his mounting stress, had dismissed the session until after dinner.

He had known he would have to deal with this eventually. But the days of travel, their mission in Jalrut, had provided a convenient excuse to focus on other things, to not have to think about it. The secret documents, the tunnel, Armin could remove himself from those well enough. But not the balloon. Not anymore.

He sighed. He had to get past it, though, he couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of his ability to do his job. He felt like he was always telling himself that, lately. The thought of getting in the balloon again made nausea clench his throat shut. But the thought of letting someone else do it instead was even worse.

The sound of the cottage door opening and closing pulled him out of his thoughts, and then a set of familiar voices drifted through the evening air.

“It’s _fine,_ Mikasa, let _go_ …” Eren’s voice, exasperated.

Then Mikasa’s, hissing. “No, we should give him space—”

“So you go back in then!” They rounded the corner and came into view, Eren irritably trying to shake his arm free of a frustrated Mikasa’s grip. It was such a familiar picture that for a brief moment, Armin was back in the streets of Shiganshina, watching them bicker over some trivial matter that seemed so important at the time.

Eren spotted Armin and hauled himself over, fighting against Mikasa’s drag. “Hey, he greeted, taking a place against the wall beside Armin.

“Sorry,” Mikasa apologized, scowling on the other side of Eren with her arms crossed. “I told him you looked like you wanted to be alone…”

“I do,” Armin replied. Then he allowed himself to crack a tiny smile, still caught in the moment of nostalgia. “So you two are fine.”

Eren leaned back, smug. Mikasa’s expression softened and her hand flicked up unthinkingly to tug at her scarf – but she couldn’t hide her face in it the way it was loosely draped about her neck in the summer heat.

“Please,” Eren said, rolling his eyes. “If you really wanted to stop me, we both know I wouldn’t have made it out the door.” He gave a wry grimace. Mikasa innocently shifted her gaze away, and didn’t grace him with a response.

A calm breeze filled the silence, whispering through the leaves. A slight creaking drifted from the old front gate, apparently left unlatched. The moment of lightheartedness slipped away, quiet contemplation taking its place. Armin glanced over at his friends. Eren stared unseeingly out at the trees, his jaw working in the way that it did when he was anxious. Mikasa was less fidgety, her eyes following the slow progress of a beetle trundling over the grass. But her lips were downturned and serious.

“What are you thinking about?” Armin asked softly, the question directed at both of them.

Eren stirred, coming out of his daze. Mikasa’s eyes flicked to Armin, then back to the beetle.

“I don’t like this plan,” she said, her voice clipped. “There’s too much waiting. We’re giving the enemy too much time to mobilize.”

“What else can we do, though?” Eren asked. He still sounded a little distant.

“We could go back and defend our base,” she said, then sighed and folded her arms. “I know _why_ we can’t. But the longer this drags on, the longer we’ll be hunted.”

“And both of humanity’s strongest are stuck away from the action,” Eren said, casting her a sympathetic glance.

“So is humanity’s hope,” Mikasa added. A flicker of guilt crossed Eren’s face for a moment. “We’ve left ourselves vulnerable.”

“But,” Armin said, “Commander Erwin is still there. And as we’ve seen, he hasn’t been twiddling his thumbs while we’ve been gone.” He met each of their gazes in turn, hoping he looked reassuring. “Whatever the Military Police might try to pull, if they attack our base… I’m sure they’ll be nervous knowing that our strongest forces are still at large.”

Mikasa sucked in her lips for a moment before she spoke. “But do you really think they won’t guess at our plans?” Her voice came out reluctantly as she continued. “They know about the balloon, and if they don’t already know it’s gone, they’ll find out if they raid base. And we have to assume that… that Adler saw us at Jalrut.” Her gaze flicked away from Armin as she said it, wincing. Armin swallowed thickly, and nodded for her to continue.

“I just think, it’s possible that they already know we’re not going to attack them yet. If we take too long and they manage to capture base, they’ll have way too much leverage to use against us.” She deflated. “Especially if we haven’t even come close to being able to launch the balloon.”

They were quiet for a long, heavy moment.

“You’re right,” Armin agreed. “We can’t rule out that possibility.” He felt the beginnings of a headache coming on, and resisted the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“We have Historia, though,” Eren pointed out quietly. “If the MPs try to use treason or something as an excuse for attacking us, that won’t stand with her.”

Armin frowned, the pieces shifting in his head. “No… but we should be careful about relying too much on her influence.” Eren looked at him in confusion. “Remember what she said about meeting a lot of public hostility lately? If she helps us, the Military Police – at least the faction of it that’s been operating outside of her knowledge – might find a way to use that against her,” Armin explained. “Especially since she was one of us. They might claim favoritism, or find some way to twist the story and make it look like we’re all conspiring against the public interest. Or something.” He grimaced, the thought alone of another media battle exhausting. “The only way we’ll be able to guarantee ourselves the upper hand is by exposing whatever secret they’re hiding on the other end of that tunnel.” He set his jaw. “We have to go Outside.”

Armin could feel Eren and Mikasa’s gaze on him, but he kept his eyes fixed straight out towards the woods.

“And to go Outside,” Eren said, his voice so soft it was almost lost under the rustling of leaves. “We’ll have to use the balloon.”

Armin inhaled, his breath stuttering slightly. “Yeah,” he said mindlessly, and his voice cracked.

Eren’s hand found his. He squeezed it instinctively.

“Sorry,” he said with a sniff, his free hand flicking up to tuck his hair behind his ear, a nervous habit. “It’s just… knowing where it came from, why we have it…” Armin broke off, blinking the dampness out of his eyes, and shook his head. There was too much churning through his head, through his heart, to be able to put into words. Eren squeezed back at his hand.

“Well,” Mikasa said slowly, frowning off into the distance again. She chose her words carefully. “We’re… going to be using it to explore the Outside.” She cast a tentative glance at Armin. “Isn’t that the best way to honor their memory?”

Armin managed a smile. “Yeah,” he said, quickly wiping at his eyes. Then he looked up at Eren, who was staring pensively down at the ground, and gave him a nudge with his elbow. “You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Hm?” Eren glanced up at him, then looked back down. “Sorry. Just been thinking.”

“What about?” Armin prompted gently.

“It’s not that important.” He kicked idly at the dirt.

“Don’t say that.” Armin frowned. “What’s bothering you?”

Pinned between their gazes, Eren relented with a heavy sigh. “It’s just… I want to go with you,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and turning to look fully at Armin. “When you take the… when you go. I know it’s selfish, I know it would fuck things up for humanity if anything went wrong. But I _want_ to go.”

“Eren,” Armin began, squeezing at his hand. “If you’re worried about me—”

“It’s not just that.” Eren shook his head, cutting him off. “It’s not just that, it’s…” He cut off with a huff, sorting the words out in his head. “You’re finally getting to go Outside, you know? In a way that really counts. I just…” he looked away, scuffing his heel in the dirt, and in the evening light Armin could see the heat tinting his cheeks.

“I wanted us to see it together,” Eren mumbled.

Armin’s heart simultaneously ached and warmed. “I want that too,” he said softly. He leaned in enough that their arms were brushing.

“Who was it who once got on my case about letting my emotions get in the way of my orders?” Mikasa interrupted sourly.

“I’m _going_ to follow orders,” Eren snapped. “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it. Moodkiller.”

“Hypocrite.”

Eren turned, bristling and ready to argue, but Armin cut in quickly. “Anyway,” he said, suppressing another fleeting urge to smile. “For now, nothing is determinate. _Nobody’s_ going until we can work out how to steer the balloon.” There was that thought again, dancing just out of reach.

“So we’re back to the waiting,” Mikasa sighed. Eren relaxed against the wall again, shooting her one last contentious glare.

“Yeah.” Armin frowned. “Though there’s something that’s been bothering me…”

“About the steering?” Mikasa asked.

Armin nodded. “It’s… been hard to focus on it,” he admitted. “My head feels a little clearer now though, so. Thanks.” He offered them a small smile. “I feel like… like there was something I noticed, during the test flight. But it’s… fuzzy. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He rubbed at his temples, still reluctant to take the full plunge back into those memories.

Eren screwed up his face in thought, and Mikasa gave a contemplative hum. “Was it anything to do with the engine?” She suggested.

“Or the canopy?” Eren offered doubtfully.

“I don’t think so…” Armin racked his brain once again. The tether, the basket, the plume of flame shooting up from the engine coils – no, none of those. He pushed himself to go further. The plunge of his stomach as he lurched upwards, the soaring elation as he rose, the vast beauty of the landscape stretching out around him but now it only filled him with a swirling confused mass of anger and bitterness and grief, and he was losing focus again, he couldn’t let himself do that, he had to figure this out, and the wind was whipping his cheeks and the gate was creaking again and Eren’s hand was warm—

The gate. Something about the sound snapped Armin out of it, and he latched onto it. It creaked on rusty hinges in the breeze. Unlatched, disrepair… Armin shook his head. No, rust— rust, breeze, creak, what did that sound remind him of—

“The weathervane!” He burst out as it came to him, a wave of relief washing over him in the satisfaction of pinpointing the thought that had been taunting him. Eren was blinking at him and Mikasa had paused to try and piece together his train of thought.

“Ker’s weathervane,” Armin hurried to explain. “It turns according to the wind direction, right? Well, when I was up in the balloon, I remember – I noticed the wind shifting direction the higher up I went.”

“Oh.” Mikasa’s eyes widened in understanding. “So maybe…” She met Armin’s gaze and he nodded.

“Wait, I’m confused.” Eren raked a hand through his hair. “What’s the connection between the balloon and the weathervane?”

“If the wind blows in different directions at different altitudes,” Armin said, “and we can control the altitude of the balloon with the heat from the engine…”

Eren caught his breath as realization dawned on him. “Then we might not need to develop a whole new propeller system,” he finished, turning to Armin with a look of triumph.

“Which means we won’t have to delay our plans for so long,” Mikasa added.

“Right. If it works.” Armin nodded, and pushed off from the wall. “I should go talk to Hanji.”


	41. Footprints

It was time.

Armin flitted from rope to rope, double-checking, triple-checking, quadruple-checking each knot anchored to the trees at the edge of the woods, making sure the roots weren’t ripping up under the mounting strain. Around him came the jumble of voices calling over each other, keeping constant communication through the rush of crisscrossing paths. The sky above the distant Wall was only just beginning to lighten, and as the cool gray crept over the land it touched upon the towering shape of the balloon’s canopy, swelling steadily to its full, magnificent size.

It had been two days since Armin brought his wind theory to Hanji, during which time they had made their final preparations for the mission. Jean and Connie had been sent out to acquire the rest of the fuel they needed to inflate the canopy, since they couldn’t have Eren give away their position by using his Titan breath. Hanji had tasked Sasha with carving a makeshift weathervane, simple and unadorned, which they then fastened securely to one edge of the basket. Everyone else had patrolled, gathered provisions, scoured the area for the best launch spot. And they had all sat huddled on the floor of the cottage, since there was no table big enough to accommodate them, making their plans, coordinating routes and precautions and signals, assigning jobs, planning for worst-case scenarios.

The days had seemed to drag on for Armin, and yet had seemed to end all at once. He moved with urgency as he performed his tasks, even though it felt unreal. The gray dawn, the fresh cool scent of the morning dew, made everything feel dreamlike. As if he might at any point wake up in the barracks and find that none of this had happened – it would linger in his memory in abstract flashes, and then fade into forgotten nothingness by the time they piled into the mess hall for breakfast.

“Just about ready,” Eren said suddenly, appearing by his side. He looked harried, unable to stand still, his hair mussed from constantly pushing his hand through it. “Once the canopy’s done filling, that’s it.”

Armin reached out, letting their fingers catch, as much for his own benefit as for Eren’s. “You look nervous.”

“Hard not to be. If I hadn’t already seen you go up in it, I wouldn’t believe something that huge would be able to fly.” Eren sighed. “And like you said, we’re taking a lot more risks this time… I won’t be able to just reel it back in if something goes wrong.”

“No,” Armin agreed. “But you have good instincts. If it comes to that, I trust you.”

It was Hanji who had made the case that determined that Eren would go with them in the balloon. If something went wrong Outside, or up in the air, he was their best shot at making it back to the Walls alive with whatever information they managed to obtain. Armin had also pointed out that it wouldn’t help their public image if Eren was seen using his Titan form against other humans.

And so, Eren was going. As were Armin and Hanji, since they were the most familiar with the balloon. Which meant that the three expedition members were decided.

Mikasa was not happy about this arrangement, despite the reasoning behind it. She had been sullen and withdrawn as she went about her duties since then. And honestly, Armin couldn’t blame her.

“What about you?” Eren asked with a glance at him. “How are you feeling?”

Armin made a face, genuinely unsure of how to answer. But he was spared by Mikasa beelining towards them, wiping fuel residue on her pants.

“Are you ready?” She practically demanded, coming to an abrupt halt before them. “It’s almost time.”

Indeed, the canopy was almost at capacity, bulbous and swaying in the air, the basket straining against taught and trembling ropes. The gray light was a little brighter now. Any minute now, the people of Halheim would be waking up to start their day, would see this foreign shape on the horizon, would come to investigate. Any minute now, soldiers might come bearing down on them from the deep shadows of the trees, the last vestiges of night.

“We should hurry,” was what Armin said. But he didn’t move from his spot, not yet. He turned his gaze to Mikasa, reached for her hand.

“Don’t apologize,” she said brusquely. But she squeezed back at his fingers anyway, her palm cool. As she looked at the two of them, fixing them in place with her dark eyes, her expression softened. “I just have to stay alive, and trust you two to do the same. Right?” She quirked an eyebrow at Armin. “And I know you’ll keep each other safe.”

“And you could probably take out the entire Military Police single-handedly,” Eren teased.

“Maybe. If I needed to,” she said mildly.

Eren snorted. Armin felt Mikasa tug at his hand and he welcomed the hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his two best friends, feeling the rise of their breath, the warmth of their skin, the fierce squeeze of their grip. His anchor point. All the unspoken worry flowing through them, all the wordless reassurances.

“Be careful,” Armin murmured as they pulled back – not apart – still touching, still linked in their tight circle for a few moments longer.

“You too.” Mikasa’s voice equally as soft.

“Take your positions!” Hanji’s voice rang out. “Prepare for launch!”

Their circle broke, reluctantly. Eren made to turn, but something stopped him mid-motion. “Oh,” he said. “Uh, before we go…” his gaze flicked briefly to Armin, who realized at once what he was doing. “We should probably tell you that me and Armin are, um. Y’know… together now.” He finished awkwardly with a vague gesture. Armin just nodded, feeling a little heat in his face.

Mikasa gave them a flat stare. “You know,” she said finally, exasperation lining her voice. “I want to say that’s obvious, but you two have always made it so _hard_ to tell. Thank Sina you’ve finally pulled your heads out of the sand.” She rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. But she gave Eren a rough elbow to the ribs, and tousled Armin’s hair with her other hand. “I’m glad you got through whatever was making you act so weird about it. And thanks for telling me.” And with that she turned, striding purposefully off towards the balloon.

\--

The canopy towered over them all, and as Armin stepped into its shadow, the full reality of it finally struck him.

He remembered his mother pressing a kiss to his cheek, his father hoisting him into the air, their features blurred by time and the warped scale of childhood but their smiles were clear in his memory, joyful and contagious in a way that made him smile too, until they disappeared around the block and something hollow had wedged its way into his happiness for them, sensing even then that he was never going to see them again. Had they sensed it, too? Armin had wondered for years afterward, lying alone and wide awake in bed with his blankets clutched tight to his chest, listening to the backdrop of his grandpa’s wheezy snores. Had they fought back tears as they strolled away down the street and left their only son behind? Or had their minds been filled only with the hope of adventures to come, the excitement of their shared secret, the dreams of a world without Walls? Too busy to think of their skinny, bookish child, who they showered with smiles and kisses, but it was his grandpa who noticed the bruises he brought home.

They had to have known they wouldn’t be coming back. It was a reality that Armin had grappled with over the years, had finally come to terms with the gaping ache it left in his heart. And now here he was, that gash reopening as he approached the balloon, their funeral carriage. They hadn’t even made it Outside, but it had killed them all the same.

Hands on the rim of the basket, the wicker cool beneath his touch.

Had they woven it themselves?

Feet touching down on the springy floor, crowded with supplies.

Had they ever imagined he might follow them like this, tracing old footsteps weathered away by time? Had the thought of guns, of pain, of toothy smiles and blinding torches ever even crossed their minds?

If it had, they’d decided it was worth it.

Was it worth it?

Armin helped Eren climb over the edge of the basket. Hanji was getting in from the other side. It was a little cramped with all of them and the supplies lashed down in the bottom.

He could feel the glow of the engine heat on the back of his neck. He reached to tie up his hair, arms moving automatically.

“We don’t have any goggles,” Hanji was apologizing somewhere. “Don’t get anything in your eyes.”

“Be careful,” Mikasa said from the ground, rigid.

“Give ‘em hell,” Eren replied with a wild grin. But as she turned to hurry to the end of one of the tethers, worry seeped back into his expression.

Armin took his hand, fingers curling over Eren’s where they rested on the rim. “It’s going to lurch,” he heard himself warn.

“Ready!” Hanji called, arm raised high in the air. “On my signal!”

“This better work,” Levi grumbled from his place by a tether.

“Three! Two! One!”

Somewhere far off, in the direction of Halheim, came the faint strain of voices.

“Launch!”

For a moment all the air seemed to be sucked out of the world, and then all at once it came rushing back as the ropes were cut and they were freed.

Armin's knees buckled at the sudden jolt upwards, his stomach sucked down in a different way than with maneuver gear. They grabbed for the edge of the basket to steady themselves, Eren cursing and white-knuckled, Hanji whooping in delight behind them. The figures on the ground shrank down to the size of ants almost before Armin had a chance to even blink. And this time there was no tether keeping them anchored, no safety net to pull them back down. The landscape pulled away below them and it struck Armin that they were truly at the mercy of the sky, utterly and terrifyingly disconnected from the earth.

“Pull in the tethers!” Hanji had to yell over the wind. “Then we’ll try to get our bearings!”

They reeled in the ropes trailing uselessly in the air below them, coiling them up but leaving the ends where they were fastened to the basket. Eren looked rattled, his hands trembling as he wound the rope.

“Look,” Armin murmured to him, close at his side and pointing outward. “We’re higher than the Walls now.”

Eren’s eyes followed the line of his finger and he stilled, sucking in a breath. There was Wall Maria in the distance, sinking down as if bowing aside to make way for them. And there beyond was the dawn, crimson light stretching over a cascade of distant hills, the promise of a warm day in the glow of the sun, peeking through low buttery clouds.

“There it is,” Eren said quietly, his voice hoarse with awe. “God, it’s all just… right there.” Green eyes flicked to Armin, and a grin cracked open on his lips. Wild and bright and Armin felt it reach inside him and burn there. “We’re _going_ ,” Eren said, his voice mixed with an incredulous laugh as his gaze tugged back to the promise laid out before them, transfixed.

Was it worth it?

Armin didn’t know. But he watched Eren, the color back in his face, skin warm and glowing in the deep light of the unobscured dawn, eyes blazing and awestruck and fierce and reverent all at once as he watched the Wall grow smaller and smaller, watched more and more of the landscape come into view. The softness and joy and sheer force of will behind that smile. And Armin thought that he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

\--

The moment they had crossed over the border of Wall Maria was dizzying. It was almost ridiculous how easily they had sailed over the otherwise-impenetrable obstacle, unhindered by checkpoints or guards or ravenous Titans beyond. One moment they were within the boundaries of safety and familiarity, and the next they were sweeping easily over miles of territory that humanity hadn’t been able to set foot in for a century. An unknown world.

Now they were heading northeast, guided by the makeshift weathervane and the compass in Armin’s hand. His theory about the wind direction had proven true, thankfully, although they were finding it to be an imprecise method of navigation. The balloon’s path had been somewhat roundabout as they got used to adjusting the altitude and working with the whims of the wind, and Hanji had worried that they might not make it before dark. But they had found a good tailwind and were back on course, and moving at a fast clip.

It was hard to keep an eye on the compass when all Armin really wanted to do was watch the scenery below. They had passed over forests and rivers and fields and hills. To the west there was a huge swath of emptiness flattening out the horizon. What was over that way? He couldn’t help but wonder, and despite himself, he could feel the buzz of excitement filling his chest, pumping his heart at a faster rate. Maybe it was contagious – Hanji’s exuberance was palpable as they filled the air with chatter in between managing the engine.

And Eren, Eren had recovered from the initial shock of flight and peered down over the rim of the basket, always close by Armin’s side, rambling commentary in a voice meant for him alone. “There are way less Titans out here.” “What kind of tree d’you think those are?” “After this mission we should come back and map all this out. Maybe we can be royal cartographers after the war.” “Think we could drop cannonballs on Titans from way up here?” “That river is huge! I wonder if it leads all the way to the ocean…”

And Armin couldn’t _not_ smile at his boyish enthusiasm, couldn’t help but get swept up in how real and tangible it all suddenly felt, this dream they’d shared for so many years, the dream that had pulled them from the jaws of death so many times. And now here they were, _Outside,_ together, so much sooner than he’d thought was possible only a few months ago. And Eren’s eyes were bright and full of wonder, and his shoulder was warm against Armin’s, and Armin wished they were alone so he could reach up and cup Eren’s face between his palms and kiss him, feel Eren press firmly back against the seal of their lips, feel a warm hand around his waist and another around the back of his neck, anchoring him, anchoring them, even as they drifted freely through a clear, empty sky.

But Hanji was there. And this was an expedition. And so Armin contented himself with leaning a little closer, replying in murmurs. And they remarked on the landscape, wondered to each other how many frogs they’d be able to catch in the ponds far below them. _After this we’ll. When the war’s over we can._ Thoughts Armin hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in, give voice to, in a long time. Spoken with warm, private glances, the slight brush of fingers, before the wind hushed the words into nothingness, for them and them alone.


	42. Landing

There were mountains before them – _real_ mountains, jutting up into the horizon even higher than the Walls, craggy rock faces stubbled with vegetation. The sheer size of them took Armin’s breath away, that nature could produce something so huge and magnificent. How many decades, centuries, millennia, had it taken to build all the way up to those peaks?

But there was no time to dwell on that now. The afternoon was beginning to wane, and if their calculations were right, they should be close to their destination.

“Is it really gonna be in the mountains?” Eren asked. He had a spyglass pressed to his eye, scouring the landscape. “Wouldn’t it be kind of hard to build there?”

“Humans are resourceful,” Hanji replied brightly, checking the fuel pump. Then they paused, voice sobering. “And if they had Titan means for the tunnel… then that would've helped them out with this outpost, too. Or whatever it is.”

A few moments of contemplative silence passed, and Armin breathed on his stiff fingers, trying to warm them. “On the bright side,” he pointed out, “being in the mountains will make it hard for Titans to get at us, at least.”

“Right!” Hanji agreed, sounding chipper again. “That was a smart decision.” They nodded sagely in praise of the unknown builders.

Armin peered down over the basket. There were far fewer Titans at such a distance from the Walls, but even so, he could see a couple of fleshy dots loitering around the land below. They looked so much less intimidating from here, deceptively harmless. He shivered, hoping they wouldn’t run into any abnormals that knew how to rock-climb.

“There!” Eren said suddenly. “I see something!”

“Ooh! Where?” Hanji leapt away from the engine and grabbed for the spyglass. “Is it a building? I don’t see anything.” Armin squinted ahead at the mountain range, searching for any kind of structure or landmark that stood out amongst the rocks and trees. But nothing caught his eye.

“Not a building, it’s…” Eren shook his head and pointed. “There, just over that row of trees, up near the center peak.”

Hanji caught their breath. “You’re right,” they murmured almost reverently. “We’ve found it.”

They broke into a grin, tossing the spyglass back to Eren and lunging back to the engine. “See if you can spot a safe place for us to land!”

Armin caught Eren’s eye and Eren wordlessly passed him the spyglass. Peering through in the direction Eren had indicated, he saw it – there was a walkway carved into the mountain, an uneven path meandering along the ridges. It was overgrown with weeds and littered with detritus, and could very well have been natural. But what wasn’t natural was the planks of rotting wood arranged along the edge – there were gaps, and it had fallen apart over the years, but it was unmistakably the remains of a fence. It had probably been built as a guardrail, and some of the posts were still standing, with sagging pieces still clinging on. What’s more, a peculiar shadow fell across part of the cliff face, starkly uniform and rectangular in contrast with all the jagged edges. It looked like a doorway.

He lowered the spyglass and handed it back to Eren, heart pounding. Even expecting to find it, actually _seeing_ the signs of human activity so far away from the Walls was almost surreal. It was like stumbling upon a castle from an old fairy tale you’d heard over and over as a kid.

“We’ll need a wide space, right?” Eren called, scouring the mountains. “Not seeing anything so far… most of the ridges are pretty steep.” They were still a ways away, but not for long – the wind swept the balloon along and the mountains were quickly rushing up below them as Hanji let some air out of the canopy to take them down at a shallow diagonal.

“Maybe we can circle around?” Hanji frowned. “It’ll be imprecise… if we can at least get overhead we can get a better view. Damn, we’re really gonna need to figure out steering controls.” They began to mutter to themself as they fiddled with the engine.

“We need to be careful not to pick up too much speed,” Armin said, eyeing the ever-growing mountains. “The landing’s going to be tight as it is. If we go in too fast, we could damage the balloon or get hurt ourselves.” He thought back to his rough landing during the test flight – that had been jarring enough even in a more controlled environment, with a tether and a wide, open field.

“Tell that to the wind,” Hanji muttered.

“What about there?” Eren pointed. “Could that work?”

Armin and Hanji peered over to look. They were rounding the top of the mountain range now, and where Eren was pointing was a clear slope about halfway down the far side of the mountain, where the steeper cliff faces leveled out somewhat. There were still a few spindly trees jutting up, but they were sparser than the ones crowded around the peak.

“Great,” Hanji said, moving back to the engine. “Could be better, but at least Titans won’t be able to reach us. Easily, anyway. Keep it in sight while I turn this thing around.”

The balloon dipped as Hanji adjusted their altitude, trying to catch a new wind. After a while of fiddling, they made a jagged arc and now approached the mountain from the opposite side.

“Here we go!” Hanji called, and pulled the cord to let more air out of the canopy. Armin’s stomach lurched as the balloon dipped suddenly.

“Careful,” he warned, shouting over the increasing rush of wind. “Don’t let the air out too fast!”

But that wasn’t the only thing they had to worry about. A sudden gust caught them from behind and the basket rattled as they lurched forward. Armin nearly lost his footing, and he grabbed for the edge to steady himself. The slope was rushing up before them and Armin’s ears were popping at the speed of their descent.

“Shit shit shit—” Hanji was swearing, fumbling with the valves on the engine. But they were already too low, below the peak of the mountain and headed on a crash course right for the side, there was no time to boost back up and try again – Armin cast around frantically for something, anything, they could do – his eyes caught on Eren, who was frantically unwinding one of the ropes still attached to the basket. He glanced up as he wrapped the loose end tightly around his fist, and his gaze locked momentarily with Armin’s. And Armin knew what he was about to do.

“Eren—” Armin began, but Eren cut him off.

“Hold onto something!” Eren yelled over the deafening wind, and then he grabbed the rim of the basket and launched himself over the edge.

Armin’s heart dropped as he disappeared from view and he forgot to breathe, counting the seconds, the rope unspooling over the side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was a flash of light and the air shuddered with a thundercrack, and Armin remembered to grab for one of the poles supporting the basket.

He reached it just in time, too, because a moment later the basket yanked in another direction and this chest smacked hard into the edge of the basket, knocking the wind out of him, the pole shuddering dangerously as he clutched at it, and for a moment he was afraid it would detach. But somehow it held, and he held on, suddenly weightless as the sky and the landscape careened through his vision, dizzying, his head filled with the roar of screaming air, feet lifting off the floor of the basket, and he couldn’t tell anymore which way was up.

And then a collision – no, not a collision, but a sudden absence of movement that slammed him back down against the wall of the basket, sent his chin colliding painfully into the pole, and a huge, rending shudder of the canopy still straining overhead with the momentum, and then, finally… stillness.

Armin cracked his eyes open – he wasn’t sure when he had shut them – and saw the two huge hands clenched firmly around the basket. He looked up and a pair of big green eyes peered back, glinting with worry.

The tension went out of Armin’s body, joints unlocking painfully, and he slumped, drawing deep breaths to try and steady the trembling in his limbs.

“You okay?” Hanji wheezed breathlessly from somewhere behind him. He nodded, and then managed to make a noise of affirmation. Eren gave a brief huff of hot air through his Titan teeth, looking relieved.

“Good thing we had you with us,” Armin said weakly as he found his voice, reaching over to pat the side of Eren’s thumb. Eren huffed again, more vehemently.

“No kidding,” Hanji agreed. Armin looked over to see them leaning heavily against the basket, looking just as pale-faced and weak-kneed as he felt. But they struggled to push themself upright. “Okay. Let’s see how we’re doing, no time to waste.”

Reorganizing his thoughts, Armin quickly checked around the basket for any signs of damage. “Everything looks okay here… two of the poles are a little wobbly, but somehow they’re still attached.”

“Good. The engine looks fine, too” Hanji replied.

“Eren, can you see any damage to the canopy?” Armin asked. Eren held the balloon at arm’s length, turning it carefully in his hands to try and get a better look at it. Then he pulled it closer again, shaking his head.

“That’s lucky,” Hanji sighed in relief, peering over the edge. “And we’re roughly where we meant to land, too.”

They were indeed on the slope they’d been targeting, although off to one side and uncomfortably close to a steep dropoff. Judging by the wreckage of upturned earth and splintered shrubbery at Eren’s feet, it looked like the balloon’s momentum had dragged him a ways before he’d managed to contain it.

Eren kept lookout for Titans or other dangers while Armin and Hanji deflated the canopy and stowed the balloon by one of the trees that had survived, tethering it to one of the sturdy trunks just to make sure it wouldn’t get blown or dragged away. It bothered Armin to leave it unattended out in the open like this – but they couldn’t take it with them. And even if a Titan somehow made it up over the ridges, it would have no interest in the balloon, he reassured himself.

“Right,” Hanji said as they and Armin shrugged on their supply packs. “Let’s get up to that doorway… Eren, d’you mind carrying us up? It’s a bit of a hike, and we shouldn’t waste our gear gas.”

Eren stooped and held down a hand in answer. Hanji clambered on first and Eren lifted them up to his shoulder. They seemed to have recovered already as they hopped nimbly over and crouched down, grabbing a lock of hair for support and already chattering about something or other. Armin hefted up Eren’s supply pack too, climbing more stiffly onto the offered palm. The impact of their almost-crash had left him winded almost as badly as all the times he’d been knocked off his horse.

Eren’s hand moved underneath him, lifting him up in the air, and Armin found himself under the scrutiny of those bright eyes once again. The huge thumb shifted, nudging gently at his torso.

“I’m okay,” Armin assured him, resting both hands placatingly atop the thumb and looking up into the grimacing mask. “Just a little banged up. It’s thanks to you that it’s not worse.” He managed a small smile and Eren sent a huff of warm air over him.

And they were off. Eren scaled the mountain easily, leaning forward for balance, Armin tucked close to his chest, fingers curled safe around him. His footing slipped once or twice on the steeper parts. But he caught himself with his free hand, and it wasn’t long before they reached the overgrown walkway.

Hanji hopped across the gap from Eren’s shoulder to the walkway as he lifted Armin up to its level. Hanji wasted no time in venturing a little ways along the path, looking around and pulling out their pistol. Armin clambered around to Eren’s neck as the Titan bowed its head. There was a hiss of steam, and the nape split to reveal Eren’s human body amongst the sinew.

“How do you feel?” Armin asked, helping him up as he tugged himself out of the Titan.

“I’ve been worse,” Eren replied with a grimace, leaning on Armin and shaking a particularly stubborn string of muscle off his leg. “Sorry for the rough landing.”

Armin shook his head. “It could’ve been worse.” They climbed together back over to solid ground as the Titan husk began to blacken and disintegrate.

“This looks like an old guard tower to me,” Hanji said, hurrying back to them as Eren picked up his pack. “The walkway looks like it just loops around. This is a good vantage point, too.”

Indeed, they could see clear down to the foot of the mountain from here. A lone Titan pawed lazily at the rocks, its eyes nothing but beady glints from this distance as it stared up in their direction.

“Are we going in?” Eren asked, impatient.

“Yeah. I’ll go first with the light,” Hanji said, rummaging through their pack for their lantern. “You two, cover me. Maria knows what we’ll find in there.”

They obeyed, readying their pistols. The path was soft, overgrown with weeds and littered with animal droppings. The mountainside was craggy and mossy, and the air was chilly. As they approached the doorway, an even cooler draft wafted from within. Hanji gave a nod, and they entered.

Inside was a circular room, empty but for the layer of rotten leaves and scattered twigs and more droppings littering the hard stone floor. Daylight filtered in through another doorway on the opposite side, and two windows spaced evenly between. It did indeed look like a guard tower. Hanji stepped inside, and Eren and Armin followed. In the center of the floor a chasm opened up, and upon closer inspection, they saw it was a staircase.

“Not _on_ the mountain,” Hanji murmured, their reverent voice echoing back at them around the chamber. “ _In_ the mountain.” They lit the lantern and stepped down without hesitation.

Eren and Armin exchanged a glance, and followed.

The darkness swallowed them up in the stairwell, Hanji’s lantern forming a bubble around them. They picked their way carefully down, around and around on the crumbling stone steps, descending into the belly of the mountain.

“Hold on,” Hanji said, stopping abruptly on a landing. Armin almost ran into them from behind. “Is that…?” They turned the lantern flame down, and sure enough, Armin could see it too – a glow of faint light outlining Hanji’s silhouette. It grew a little brighter with each step, until the next landing they reached greeted them with another doorway. The light was, unmistakably, coming from there. The stairs continued down into the darkness.

Hanji looked back at the two of them and gave a hand signal, then peered out, a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. They looked for a long few moments, then stepped through the doorway.

Emerging on the other side, Armin had to remind himself to breathe.

Daylight streamed from gaps far above them, down and down in dusty shafts to illuminate a huge open space hollowed out of the mountain. They currently stood on another walkway, albeit a very wide one – it circled all the way around the vast chamber, guarded by a chest-high stone wall planted firmly at the edge, still mostly intact despite the moss and weeds creeping over it. And lining the perimeter of the mountain walls were more doorways, spaced at even intervals, with empty gloom beyond. Glancing into one, Armin saw that it opened into a smaller chamber, about the size of the one-floor cottage they’d left behind. He approached the center, careful of his footing. Peering over the edge, he saw a series of similar walkways and compartments lined the walls all the way down, until they reached the huge, empty floor far below.

“This place is a fortress,” Hanji breathed, also leaning over the ledge. “You could fit a whole city in here…” They straightened up slowly, emotions warring over their face.

“Look at this,” Eren said. Armin and Hanji turned to see him with his hand on the wall.

“Just like the tunnel,” Armin murmured, stepping closer to examine faded remnants of the pale, stonelike substance. The same material as the Walls, but rougher, more jagged.

“Well,” Hanji said, sounding grim. “If there was any doubt that Titan abilities were used to excavate this place, they’re gone now. The tunnel too. So we know for a fact how it was able to pass under the Walls.” They counted off on their fingers, and when they continued, their voice was tight with suppressed anger. “There’s also no doubt that those MPs are huge pieces of shit.”

“How did they even know about this, though?” Eren asked, frowning. He gestured around at the decrepit, mossy stone, the layers of detritus on the ground from decades of neglect. “This place looks pretty old. So the MPs probably weren’t the ones to make it.”

“If it was made at the same time as the Walls, that would mean the Reiss family was probably responsible,” Armin said, his brows furrowing in thought. “Maybe this place was supposed to be a backup plan. If something ever happened to the Walls, they’d be able to evacuate at least some people, to keep humanity alive for a little longer…”

“Yeah, they sure showed a lot of concern when Maria fell.” Eren scowled.

“They also didn’t want people going Outside,” Armin pointed out. “This place is a lot less… contained than the Walls. It was probably for a last-ditch effort, when there were no other options.” He shrugged. “That’s just a guess, though.”

“No, if the Reiss family built this, then things line up,” Hanji said. “They probably entrusted the knowledge of this place to their MP division, so they could keep tabs on the place, keep it stocked up – explaining all those transport documents – and keep the tunnels guarded, to make sure no civilians stumbled onto it. Since Historia never inherited her family’s memories…”

“She never found out about it, and the MPs never told her,” Eren finished, his eyes widening.

“Right.” Hanji nodded.

“And Adler’s had them continuing operation without her knowledge,” Armin said, his mind spinning through the new information. “We know that _he’s_ not interested in the good of humanity. And Historia’s buckled down on the Military Police since she took the throne…”

They looked around at each other, all reaching the same understanding. Then, unexpectedly, Hanji broke into a wide grin.

“We got ‘em,” they said gleefully.


	43. Exploration

They checked through the top level and made camp there that night, in one of the side chambers, keeping watch in shifts. When morning came they worked their way down, methodically scouring each floor. Much like the top, all they found was the organic debris that had blown in through the skylights over the years, some bird's nests, and some strange animal tracks through the dust. At one point, they even caught a glimpse of something small and furry disappearing around a corner to avoid them.

Each floor grew wider the farther they descended, and it was afternoon by the time they finally neared the bottom. They were two floors up from the ground when Eren peered into the nearest side chamber and caught his breath.

“Looks like we’ve found their stash,” Eren said, stepping aside as Armin and Hanji hurried over. Sure enough, inside were crates upon crates of supplies. The same went for the second side chamber they checked. And the third. Canned foods, preserves, flour, ammunition, scrap metal, gunpowder, weapon parts, torch brackets, reams of cloth – all the things Armin had glimpsed in the ledgers, and more, stockpiled in the base of the mountain.

“Those bastards,” Hanji muttered, peering into yet another crate stacked full of canned fish. But their tone almost sounded a little impressed, too.

All the chambers were filled on the next floor down, as well. And then they finally reached the bottom.

“Over there,” Eren said, at the same time that Hanji said “That’s—”

They were pointing in two different directions. Hanji was looking at a huge opening on one side of the wall, much bigger than the entrances to any of the side chambers and opening into darkness. Where Eren pointed was a small archway, rough-hewn through the stone and forming a short passageway. Light glinted out from the other side.

“Let’s check this out first,” Hanji said, beckoning them towards the bigger one. Eren and Armin exchanged a glance, already suspecting what it was.

And sure enough, the air chilled even further at the mouth of the entrance, like the breath of the endless yawning darkness within. Armin peered up and sure enough, in what little light reached into the space, he saw the same Titan marks again.

“This is where the tunnel lets out,” he said.

“So this is it,” Hanji murmured, running a palm over the wall. “Amazing…” They looked like they wanted to go farther in, but they forced themself to turn around. “Alright. Let’s keep moving – we’ll check the chambers first, and then that archway.”

Just like the previous two floors, the chambers were filled with still more supplies. And to top it all off, as if there could be any doubt left about the human activity, a few lumps of old horse dung lay decomposing on the chamber floor. The pieces were falling into place.

Finally, they made their way around to the archway. Hanji took the lead again, and Eren and Armin followed them through the passageway carved through the thick wall of the mountain. It went farther back than any of the side chambers, dimming and then brightening again as they approached whatever lay on the other side.

Hanji paused at the end, and Armin couldn’t see around their frame as they peered around the corners. Then they stepped through and beckoned. “It’s clear,” they said, eyes glinting.

Eren and Armin emerged into a chamber even bigger than the last one. But there were no tiers of rooms and walkways rising above them here. Instead, light streamed from a central hole high up where the mountain’s peak would be, illuminating the dark, glittering lake that filled most of the floor space. Large swaths of dark green plant growth crowded the remaining ground around the bank. The chamber echoed with the shrill calls of birds flitting through the air, swooping down to catch insects or ruffling their feathers on their tiny perches along the uneven wall face – Armin recognized some of them, and the glimpses of familiarity were just as breathtaking as the newness of everything else.

“I’m gonna go take a water sample,” Hanji said, finally unable to contain their glee any longer. They practically skipped over to the edge of the water, fumbling a small vial out of a pocket.

“This is amazing,” Eren breathed, staring around the chamber. “I never knew something like this could be underground.”

Armin looked over at him, taking in his disarmed expression, the amazement in his eyes, and his heart swelled with his own giddiness, which he’d been suppressing since they landed. He felt a smile creep onto his face as he turned back to the sight before them, drank in the pale shafts of sunlight and glimmering dark surface of the water, ripples ballooning out as a bird dipped through the surface from above or a fish skimmed it from below. The plants crowding the bank were lush and deep green, unfamiliar and wonderful as they thrived in this strange, beautiful cavern.

“Look at this,” he said, tugging at Eren’s hand and crouching by the vegetation around their shins. “I’ve never seen this plant before.” But for a long moment, neither of them were looking at the plant.

“I wish we had a journal with us,” Eren lamented, finally letting his gaze drop to the plant. But then he glanced back up at Armin, a crooked smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “Hey, if we did have one, what would you write?”

“Hmm.” Armin made a show of considering the plant, fingers tapping at his chin. “Unknown plant specimen 001. About ten inches tall, thick stalk with broad, tapered leaves at short intervals up the stem. At the top, branches into thin stems topped by tiny white flowers, umm…” He squinted, peering in closely. “Six petals each, curving inwards.” He leaned back and handed an imaginary journal to Eren with a playful smirk. “Mr. Jaeger, if you would take care of the sketch.”

Eren snorted and rolled his eyes, but he was suppressing a grin. “You sure? You know I’m no good at that.”

“Better at it than me. Besides, I’m sure once you get some practice, you’ll be an expert field sketcher in no time.”

Eren heaved an affected sigh, then shook his head in defeat. “If you insist, Mr. Arlert.”

They grinned at each other, and Armin felt a bittersweet ache unfurling in his chest, wishing this could be the real thing. But Hanji clattered around by the water not thirty feet away, and there was still work to be done.

“We should keep looking around,” Armin said, getting to his feet again. Eren followed suit.

“Yeah, I guess,” he agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at Hanji, and then subtly slipped his hand into Armin’s. Armin squeezed it, and smiled.

They walked a little ways along one edge of the lake’s perimeter. Eren pointed out the tiny fish that darted around in the shallows. But aside from them, the same plants, and a few familiar insects, there was not much to be found, at least not at a glance. The same plants…

Armin stopped suddenly. “That’s odd,” he said.

“What is?”

“The plants. Usually there’s a lot of different kinds growing around the water – grasses, reeds, that kind of thing.”

Eren blinked and looked around their feet again. “You’re right,” he realized. “There’s none of that here.”

They walked a little farther, but as far as the eye could see, there was only that strange plant.

“Think this might be that knaproot stuff?” Eren asked.

“Could be.” Armin crouched to examine it again, letting his fingers trail down the stem to where it disappeared into the earth. He paused there for a moment, internally debating, and then dug his fingers into the soil. “Maybe we should take a sample, too.”

It was unexpectedly difficult to extricate the plant. Eren helped him unearth it, and they exposed a gnarled complex of roots almost as long as the plant was tall, tangled and intertwined with those of its fellows around it. After a few minutes of struggling with the plant, they finally had it free.

“Do we have anything to carry that in?” Eren frowned, eyeing the rather cumbersome plant in Armin’s hands as he clapped some of the dirt off his own.

“Not really,” Armin admitted. “I’d like to take a soil sample, too…”

“Who would’ve thought we needed to bring flowerpots?” Eren said with a wry grin.

For now they wandered back towards Hanji to see if they had any extra vials. While Armin explained what they had found, Eren meandered a little ways along the bank on the opposite side of the entrance, instead. Hanji listened intently, emphatically agreeing and hurrying to fish out another vial, heedless of the mud stains they left on their uniform.

“Guys,” Eren suddenly called. “This is definitely what the MPs have been bringing back.” When they looked over, they saw he was standing in a bare patch a little ways down.

Armin and Hanji hurried over. Sure enough, a large swath of the ground was empty, the soil loose and clumped where a great many of the plants had been ripped up. But even so, sprouts were already popping back up around the edges as the vegetation reconverged. For a moment, Armin couldn’t help but think of Titans swarming back in to replace the ones they’d killed.

“Yep, this clears up any doubts.” Hanji bent down to squint at the plants, muttering out loud. “Knaproot, huh… I can’t wait to uncover your secrets.” They eagerly scooped some of the soil around the roots into the vial.

“Do you have another?” Armin asked. “I’ll go take a sample from the other chamber, too, for comparison.”

Hanji willingly handed one over. As Armin slipped back through the narrow passageway, he heard them instructing Eren to dig up another plant.

Armin emerged back into the main chamber, just as empty as before, but eerily so now that he was alone. He found himself stepping softly, any sound feeling too loud and intrusive. As if the place was watching him, the harsh bright eye of sunlight far above scrutinizing the lone trespasser.

The earth was packed harder here. He found a spot near the stairway entrance that hadn’t been worn as flat by the passage of feet over it, and as he crouched to scrape at it, he paused. Was that a scuffing sound he’d just heard? He scanned the room and tried to peer up toward the levels above, but saw nothing, and heard nothing but Hanji’s voice drifting in from the other chamber. It might’ve been a bird taking flight, or one of those strange animals they’d seen higher up. Nevertheless, he kept his ears open.

It happened just as he was pocketing the vial. A sudden, angry whirring sound, this time painfully, unmistakably familiar – maneuver gear cables. He whipped around, yelling out a warning, but they were already surging in from the dark mouth of the tunnel. He had a split second to glimpse the flash of dusty light off the barrel of a gun before he had to duck into the stairwell, a bullet ricocheting sharply off the wall where his head had just been.

There was no time to stop and think. He bolted up the spiral staircase – he had to get up to the second floor, where there was enough space to use his gear – that was his only chance. Through the muffling of the tight walls he could hear that chaos had broken loose.

He burst out of the darkened stairwell onto the second floor, heart pounding, but luckily nobody had headed him off. The noise was almost deafening now, a calamity of raised voices and gunshots thundering off the walls and echoing tenfold back down upon them. He grabbed his triggers, straining his ears to try and pick out Eren or Hanji’s voice from the chaos – he hadn’t seen much except that they were outnumbered, they had to strategize—

Armin launched off the ground just as the first of his attackers shot up past the guard wall, her scanning eyes locking onto him immediately. He swung up and around as her shot went off, zipping past his shoulder – he’d have to use the cover of the levels as much as possible. He glanced down, desperately raking his eyes across the ground floor, praying that Eren and Hanji had made it back into this chamber – there was no such cover by the lake. But all he saw were at least half a dozen MPs, some hunched by the archway, others aiming up and lifting off to give chase to him.

And then Armin’s heart plummeted as the whole mountain seemed to shudder, and Eren’s Titan roar split the air.

_Okay,_ he thought, rocketing higher up the levels and scrambling to re-strategize. Eren couldn’t get out of the lake chamber in that form, so Armin had to get back in there with them. But he was at a disadvantage, he wasn’t fast enough to take out gun-wielders with his blades, and he couldn’t hold his pistol while using his gear – if he could get the drop on his pursuers, maybe he could then use the high ground to pick off some of the MPs on the floor—

He swung up another level, intending to use the stairs to double back on his assailants. But as his grapple thunked into the guard wall above, pieces of stone crumbled away around it, and the hook wrenched free. And Armin dropped.

He twisted in the air, no time to think, and shot off his other hook as he plummeted down. It caught one of the support columns, snapping him painfully into a new trajectory. He hit the gas and stopped his cable from reeling – it would be tight, but if he could swing around that column—

But something slammed into him from the side before he could do it and he instinctively released his cables so as not to snap his spine. He hit the level floor and tumbled over and over himself, gasping and disoriented when he finally skidded to a stop.

“Go take care of Jaeger!” Someone was barking as Armin struggled to reorient his scrambled thoughts. “I’ve got this under control.”

A boot connected with Armin’s side as he feebly tried to get up, and it knocked him over easily. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear the bright spots from his vision. He felt a hand reach into his cloak, felt the weight of the pistol disappear. His whole body ached. He was sure his bruises must reach all the way to the bone. He hoped Eren was okay.

He opened his eyes, and now, bleeding through the brightness, he could see a familiar set of small white teeth sneering down at him, edged with malice.


	44. Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: violence, descriptions of blood

Armin barely managed to scramble to his knees before another sharp kick launched him backwards. His breath was shallow but he forced his body to move, had to keep a level head – had promised himself that much, promised Eren and Mikasa – and as Adler advanced on him again he found it in himself to lift his head and glare.

“Armin Arlert.” It sickened him to hear his name on that tongue, drawn out and savored. “Fancy seeing you here.” Adler bounced Armin’s stolen pistol lightly in his palm. Taunting.

Armin’s gaze darted around. He’d been tossed into one of the empty side rooms. How many floors up was he? Six? Seven? Adler stood between him and the exit, one of his guns leveled casually at Armin. The room slightly muffled the shouts and roars from the other chambers. They were alone here. He had to get to Eren. _Think._

“Not much to say, hmm?” Adler heaved an affected sigh. “Just like always. I’m hurt, you know. That you never opened up to me.” He took a step forward.

Armin flinched. He couldn’t help it. He tasted bile.

Something changed in Adler’s expression. He smiled. Took another step.

“Not even a hello?” He goaded. “You didn’t bother to greet me in Jalrut, either. And after you went and caused so much trouble for us, too.” Adler shook his head in mock disappointment. But something hard gleamed behind his eyes.

“Get back,” Armin blurted hoarsely as Adler took another step forward. His throat was raw and his head was pounding. He’d managed to push himself back to the wall and he used it to push himself up, the stone digging into his shoulderblades. Pressing as if he could make it swallow him.

Adler clicked his tongue. He took another step. “Oh, Armin. Are you afraid I’m going to kill you?” He was still smiling. “Eventually. But not yet. You’ve really let me down.”

The image of Doran’s bleeding, unconscious form flashed before his eyes. He shuddered. But there was something. What was it? Something that nagged at his memory. His legs trembled. Adler only had one gun drawn. The pounding of his heart was so loud it was drowning out everything else. Through it, Eren’s Titan scream sounded miles and miles away. _You’ve really let me down. This isn’t going to end until you give me what I want._ Get back to Eren. Think. Stall. While there was still space between him and Adler.

“What are you doing with the plants?” Armin demanded, trying to sound confident despite his shaky voice.

Adler paused, a shadow darting over his expression. “So you know about that, too. Clever boy,” he said, smoothing it over with a smile. “I’m afraid that won’t be relevant to you for long, however.” Another step.

“Why go to such lengths to keep this place hidden, then?” Armin tried. “You’re holding humanity back.”

“No, Armin,” Adler said with a snort. “We’re holding the _Survey Corps_ back. Humanity is just fine as it is.” Another step, eyes glinting. His pace was slow and deliberate. Watching Armin watch the distance shrinking.

Armin’s thoughts were unspooling again. It was so close, he was too close, his hands twitched, wanting to go for his blades, but the barrel of Adler’s gun gaped down at him in warning. What _was_ it – _You’ve really let me down_ —

But Adler didn’t seem to want to let him think. “I don’t see why you people want to leave the Walls so badly,” he said, filling Armin’s silence. “Well, in your case it’s a bad upbringing, I suppose. The fruit really doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He sneered, and again, for a moment, Armin could see the furious edge behind his careful composure. “I must say,” Adler continued. “They taught you how to hold your tongue quite well, if nothing else.”

The words split through Armin’s jumbled thoughts and for a moment, he was confused. Then Doran’s bloody form flashed before him again. _You’ve really let me down. You disobeyed me. Where are the documents?!_ Adler’s voice rang tenfold through his mind, but then suddenly his own voice broke through.

_You know I don’t know what you’re asking me for… If you really wanted me to talk, you wouldn’t risk damaging my voice. You’re just like the street bullies in Shiganshina. You just want to feel bigger than someone else. You just want to be in control._

Armin flinched, waiting for Adler’s fists to come down on him. But they didn’t – Adler was still halfway across the room. And suddenly, Armin’s head was clearer now.

“I wasn’t holding my tongue,” he said, his voice still a little hoarse. “I didn’t know anything about the documents.”

Adler scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? When we’re _here?_ ” He gestured around them for emphasis. The movement was too sharp to be casual. He took another step.

Armin stood straighter against the wall, and smiled. “We’re here,” he said, “because of you.”

Adler’s sneer faded. He stopped.

“The balloon’s basket had a ripped hidden pocket,” Armin said, his voice taking on a light, conversational tone. “I’m assuming you found the documents in there when you took it out of contraband for the Survey Corps?” Adler said nothing. “Command may have known that the balloon had belonged to my parents, but none of us had any idea about any documents. If you hadn’t taken me in for interrogation, we never would’ve gone looking for anything. We never would’ve known about your little Outside base, or the tunnel.” He kept smiling, despite the nausea the words brought.

Adler had gone white. All traces of smug humor had vanished from his face. For the first time, he was speechless. But Armin knew exactly what to say.

His voice was stronger now. “So really, Major Adler, we should be thanking you.”

Adler’s face twisted in fury and he lunged. In the same instant Armin fired one of his cables. Adler screamed as the hook lodged itself in the shoulder of his gun arm, but before he had a chance to react the cable dragged him in and Armin wrenched the guns from his weakened grasp. Adler made a grab for his throat, eyes wild, but this time Armin wasn’t bound to a chair. He ducked to the side and Adler missed and Armin pushed and then it was Adler pinned face-first against the wall, heaving furiously and arms tangled in Armin’s wire as blood dripped from where the hook was still buried in his shoulder.

And Adler was at his mercy.

For a moment it felt unreal, even as Armin’s body moved on its own to draw one of his blades and press his pistol to the back of Adler’s head. And oh, how part of him _ached_ to pull the trigger. That eternal week of wretched delirium, the bruises that he still sometimes felt despite his healed skin as if they’d been branded into him, the final smiles of his parents as they walked away all those years ago – it all seemed to culminate right here and now, all it would take was a single twitch of his finger…

But another roar of Eren’s thundered through the mountain and he knew he couldn’t. Instead he dragged Adler away from the wall just enough to press the blade to his throat. There was no time to waste.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” Armin muttered darkly. “If you think I won’t do it, you’re wrong.”

“You’ll have to kill me before I tell you _anything,_ ” Adler hissed, but Armin cut him off with a yank, pulling him upright. He seethed through ragged breaths as he stiffly allowed Armin to steer him out to the walkway. Too proud, perhaps, to relinquish whatever dignity he felt he still had.

Adler was heavier than his narrow frame suggested, and touching him made Armin want to retch. But somehow, he managed to swing them back down to the ground floor on his free cable, his blade never leaving Adler’s throat.

They landed hard near one of the walls, Adler making a strangled noise as his knees nearly buckled at the impact. The ground floor was empty – everyone must be concentrating on subduing Eren. Armin looked around to make sure nobody was lurking in any doorways, then hurried ahead, shoving Adler along through the archway, not giving him time to stop and take a breath. Adler said nothing, his injured arm dangling limp and useless at his side. But the fury rolled off of him in waves.

As soon as they were in the lake chamber Armin yanked Adler to the side of the entrance, putting his back to the solid wall. His eyes darted around, taking in the situation, tracking the figures whipping through the air and the ones braced on the ground with guns raised. Nobody saw him yet. Eren’s Titan was backed up against the wall to one side of the lake, one hand covering his nape while the other swiped at cables or any MPs that tried to get near – some of them were equipped with blades instead of guns, Armin realized with an unpleasant jolt. On Eren’s shoulder crouched Hanji, frantically scrambling to reload their gun.

Armin sucked in a deep breath.

_“STOP!”_ He bellowed, and the force of his own voice almost even startled himself. It echoed back off the high stone walls and the flat surface of the water and Adler – Adler actually winced. It was just barely noticeable, but for a split second, Armin felt alive with a mixture of triumph and disgust. But then all eyes were turning to him.

Eren’s head whipped around at the sound of his voice and then the ground shuddered violently as he closed the distance between them in two huge strides, sliding into a crouch with one arm braced on the floor in a defensive arch over Armin.

“Stop!” One of the MPs was yelling at the others as she realized the situation. “They have the Major!”

The MPs alighted, scattered around the floor of the chamber, weapons still drawn. A dangerous growl rumbled from Eren’s throat, one of his sharp bright eyes fixed on Adler.

Hanji slid down from Eren’s shoulder, hurrying over to back Armin up. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” they sneered, surveying Adler. Then they caught Armin’s eye and mouthed, _nice._

“Weapons down,” Armin ordered the group of MPs, jostling Adler a little for emphasis. “Or you’ll lose your Major.”

The MPs hesitated. Some of them looked to Adler.

“Your orders stand!” He barked, still managing to sound authoritative despite his hoarse voice. Armin couldn’t see his face but he could hear the tight, shallow breaths as he fought to maintain his composure. He let his blade bite a little further into Adler’s throat, getting a ragged snarl in response.

“You’re outnumbered,” said the MP who seemed to have taken charge, narrowing her eyes. She didn’t lower her gun. But she didn’t shoot, either.

“You’re outsized,” Hanji shot back, jerking their head at Eren.

“ _Shoot them,_ ” Adler hissed.

“If you shoot us, Jaeger has no reason to hold back.” Eren growled low in agreement, shoulders tense. “Don’t you want to get out of this alive?”

“ _Don’t you dare disobey me!”_

There it was again. Armin regarded Adler coldly. Then he spoke up.

“What is it that you think you’re going to get out of this?” He asked, calling across the swath of bloodied plants. There was a twisted shape amongst them that he recognized as a body. “Money and power? The privilege to rule the streets of the interior without consequence again, without a nosy Queen tying you down?”

Adler went rigid. The MPs said nothing.

“We’ve seen your documents. Even if you kill us here, we’re not the only ones who know about this place. We’re not that stupid. If we don’t come back, everything we know about this place is going to be plastered all over the headlines.” That last part was a bluff, but Armin honestly wouldn’t put it past Erwin to have something like that up his sleeve. From the looks on their faces, neither would the MPs.

Good. Let them squirm. He kept going. “How do you think the public will react when they find out that the Military Police has been hiding resources and a safehouse this whole time? When they find out that you preferred to sacrifice thousands of people rather than tap into your precious secret stash?” Anger boiled in his stomach and he channeled it into the terrifying calm of his voice. “My guess is that it wouldn’t be very good for your plans.”

Adler was twitching against Armin’s restraint despite the blade biting into his throat. Armin could feel him heaving with barely-repressed rage. Armin could see how he worked, now, could see the machinations of his mind. And they were so deceptively, pathetically simple.

“What do you want?” The lead MP asked, guarded.

“There are a few things I want to know,” Armin said, holding his hostage tightly in place.

“Don’t you dare tell them anything,” Adler seethed. “ _Shoot them.”_

“Didn’t you hear me? Killing us won’t protect your secrets, and Eren will wipe you out before you can take him down. I guess your Major doesn’t care if you all die for nothing.” Armin tilted his head. “But Queen Historia used to be part of the Survey Corps. One of us. If you cooperate right now, we might be able to work something out.” He suppressed a grimace. “I think we all know it would be better than whatever the Major would do with you.”

The MPs glanced at each other. He almost had them.

“ _Don’t you fucking dare—_ ”

As Adler began to snarl again, Armin caught Eren’s eye. Right on cue, Eren tensed suddenly, lurching as if he was about to spring forward.

“Okay! Okay!” The lead MP’s hands shot up, and Eren stopped. “What do you want to know?”

“Weapons down, first,” Armin repeated. “Then stand over there by the water.” He gestured with his gun.

The MPs obeyed reluctantly, glancing at each other and exchanging a few inaudible mutters.

“How long has this place been here?” Armin demanded once they were grouped up. He’d start with the easy questions. See if they’d cooperate.

“I don’t know. As far as we know, it’s always been here.” The others nodded in agreement.

“And you’re using it for…?”

“Storage,” the MP said, holding his gaze.

“Why?”

“In case of an emergency.”

So they were still holding out. Armin and Hanji exchanged a glance and Hanji turned back to the MPs, expression stony. “But Wall Maria falling to Titans wasn’t enough of an emergency?”

The MP had no answer to that. Adler was breathing heavily, his uninjured arm straining uselessly against the steel cable pinning it to his side.

“I have a guess,” Armin said coolly, watching Adler’s every hitch. “Sure, I’ll believe that this was intended as an emergency stockpile. Maybe the Military Police dipped into it now and then to keep themselves fed when resources were tight. But I’ve seen how much more you’ve been bringing back and forth in recent years.” He kept one eye on the group. Some of them stood rigid and guarded. Others shifted uncomfortably.

“Here’s what I think,” Armin continued. “I think it’s awfully convenient that public opinion is turning against the Queen who’s tightened the leash on you MPs, and that you’ve got enough food to last you for years while there’s a blight within the Walls. It’s the perfect scenario to keep your own forces strong while everyone else goes hungry and gets desperate… the perfect scenario for a coup.”

Predictably, Adler writhed. “ _Don’t you fucking tell them anything! That’s an order!_ ”

“So,” Armin said, ignoring him. “How do the plants tie into that? We know you’re bringing them back to the Walls.”

And Adler screamed. Any semblance of his composure shattered as he struggled in vain against the cable, the blade, his useless arm. Armin tightened his grip and refused to be thrown off-balance. _“If you tell them a single fucking word,_ ” Adler shrieked, _“I’ll make sure none of you ever see the light of day again! If you disobey me you’ll rot in a cell and beg for death—_ ”

Armin could pinpoint the exact moment Adler lost them. The leader’s expression flattened and she looked back at her comrades. They exchanged a few muttered words and when she turned back, their faces were resolute.

“ _—rip you apart into the worthless lumps of insubordinate flesh you are—_ ”

“The plants create a natural herbicide.” She spoke without a moment’s hesitation, casting a last disgusted look at Adler. “We’ve been… experimenting with that.”

Adler howled furiously, his words blending together into an unintelligible stream of vitriol. Out of the corner of his eye, Armin saw Hanji begin to root around in their pack for something.

“Herbicide…” Armin frowned. That would explain the absence of other plant life around the bank. And with the MPs bringing back so much of it…

“They’re even behind the blight itself,” Armin realized, keeping his voice low enough for Hanji to hear but not the others.

“Sure seems like it.” Hanji paused in their rummaging to glare at the group. “If it were me, I wouldn't wanna wait around for one to happen on its own, either.”

“Cause a famine, then blame it on the Queen. That’s a great way to start an uprising.” Armin cast a cold glance at Adler’s struggling figure, and his next words were jabs. “It might’ve worked if they hadn’t led us right to it.”

At this, Adler’s screams doubled in intensity. Looking disgusted, Hanji finally found what they’d been searching for in their pack. A moment later Adler gagged, his garbled words cutting off completely as Hanji shoved their soap bar into his mouth.

“Oh man,” Hanji muttered gleefully as Adler spluttered and gagged. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Armin suppressed the wild urge to laugh.

“One more thing,” he said to the group of MPs. “How many of you are in on this?”

“Not many.” The leader muttered begrudgingly. “Just the people here now, and a few high-ranking officers with _him._ ” She gestured to Adler. “And the guards at Jalrut.”

“What about the people doing your dirty work?” His mind flicked to Orwel, all those months ago. “The ones you’ve got staking out the Survey Corps base?”

“They don’t know. They were just told you’re under investigation for conspiracy against the people.”

“Figures.” Hanji scoffed, then stepped forward. “We’re going to need names.”

\--

They sent the MPs back out into the main chamber, but kept the disgraced Adler with them. They had Eren sit down with his back against the archway, blocking the entrance while he climbed out of the Titan just in case the group got any ideas. They may have cooperated while Eren was a threat, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t try to storm back in after he’d lost the size advantage.

“Here,” Hanji said, gesturing to Armin, and he gladly moved to pass Adler over to them.

The second the blade was away from his throat Adler whipped around and _lunged,_ heedless of the grapple still lodged in his bleeding shoulder or the soap bar still shoved to the back of his throat. Armin ducked instinctively, tucking himself down. He felt shins smack against him and Adler went tumbling over, giving a muffled scream of agony as the hook wrenched out of his shoulder and he hit the ground chest-first.

Hanji was on him in an instant, pinning him down with one sharp knee and wrenching his wrists back to tie them with some spare rope from their pack. “Some people never know when to quit,” they muttered.

Armin got to his feet, looking down at the man writhing in the dirt, wild-eyed and frothing. The surge of adrenaline finally caught up to him and he stepped back to compose himself, taking deep breaths as his hands started to tremble in the sudden aftershock of the tension. It was hard to believe that this was the same Adler who had once seemed so infallible. Hard to believe that cold sneer was, in the end, so easily dismantled.

Armin turned away.

He met Eren as he was scrambling down from the discarded Titan body.

“You did it!” Eren caught him around the middle and Armin couldn’t help but smile as his feet left the floor, his arms trapped between them. Eren was grinning as he set him back down, all relief and triumph, hands lingering at his waist. “How do you feel?”

“Like I need a bath.” Armin made a face and Eren nodded sympathetically. His skin was crawling where he’d had contact with Adler. He tried to put it out of his mind. “And I think you mean _we_ did it.”

Eren just shrugged. “Eh. I just stood there and looked scary.”

“No, you stood there and looked scary in exactly the right ways.” Armin gave him an insistent prod. “Without you, they really would’ve just shot us.”

He looked down as his fingertips found an inconsistency, and saw a small round hole in the abdomen of Eren’s shirt. “What happened?” He asked with a frown as he thumbed at the smooth circle of exposed skin.

“I took a bullet. Not on purpose,” Eren added hurriedly at Armin’s look. “It triggered my transformation, though. And then we were stuck in here.” He grimaced, and then his expression softened as he covered Armin’s hand with his own. “I dunno what we would’ve done if you hadn’t made it back on your own. Some of those MPs actually knew what they were doing against a Titan.”

Armin sighed. The exhale seemed to dispel a weight he hadn’t been able to get rid of in a long time now. In place of it came exhaustion, winding its sluggish grip around his bones. But exhaustion, he could handle. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“You too.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment and all Armin wanted to do was melt into Eren’s arms and bury his face in his chest and not think about anything for a while. But they weren’t in the clear just yet. Armin looked to the Titan body, just beginning to evaporate. The MPs on the other side might just be waiting to spring another attack.

So he turned, facing across the expanse of trampled, bloodied plants to where Hanji was lifting Adler, bound at the wrists and ankles and pale from blood loss and now unconscious, onto their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. There was nothing at all imposing about him, now.

“Let’s go.”

And they went, hurrying side-by-side across the soft earth back to Hanji and their captive, their gear carrying them up over the jagged rocky walls, scaling to the pale blue circle of glowing sky above.


	45. To The Sky

The morning air was cool and brisk, sharp with the crisp scent of fall leaves. Even a few months later, people were still talking about how Mikasa and the others had swept into base like a sudden storm, crushing the MP forces that had descended upon the Survey Corps. The story had gotten so inflated in the months since, it was hard to tell anymore what was the truth.

“Ey, Ackerman!” One of the recruits called out in greeting now, grinning as Mikasa and Armin passed by lugging empty fuel drums back to the barn. “Punt anyone into the rafters lately?”

“I didn’t do that,” Mikasa said flatly.

“I bet you could, though.” Armin chuckled.

She gave an offhanded shrug. “Probably,” she said, and Armin smiled at the slight smugness in her tone.

“I guess you’re pretty used to this kind of attention,” he said out loud.

“I guess. Sasha and Connie have been enjoying it, though.” Dinners often found that pair regaling the recruits with highly embellished tales of weeks spent scraping by in the wilderness, pursued around every corner by relentless MPs.

“No kidding. I can’t believe they even managed to work a bear into the story.” Armin shook his head. It didn’t matter that everyone knew their tales were full of untruths – they were fun to listen to, even he had to admit.

“What about you?” Mikasa asked, glancing over at him. “Are you sick of the attention yet?”

Armin shrugged as best he could with the unwieldy barrel in his arms. The metal was cold and he shivered a little as a slight breeze picked up. “It’s definitely a little exhausting,” he admitted. “I don’t know how you and Eren can put up with it on a constant basis. But I can’t blame everyone for being so interested in the balloon and in the mountain base. It changes _everything._ ” He grinned.

“You’re in a good mood today,” she teased.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” She met his gaze, and her face relaxed into a natural smile. “I’m excited.”

“Me, too.”

They reached the barn, pausing to let a few other soldiers hurry out, arms laden with supplies. Base was bustling with energy, the air was ringing constantly with voices, everyone was in motion – just like before any expedition. But today, it was lacking the usual undercurrent of dread. Today there was livelihood, and a thrill usually only seen in new recruits before their first mission slapped reality back into them.

They set the empty fuel drums down with the others. They filled up a whole corner of the barn, waiting to be loaded into a wagon and sent away for refilling.

“That was the last of them, right?” Armin asked.

“Yep.” Mikasa nodded, brushing off her hands.

“Hey, Mikasa…” His voice stopped her as she was turning to head back out, and she paused to listen. Armin met her gaze. “Thanks.”

“For what?” She squinted back at him.

“Just… everything.” He shrugged, spreading his hands a little. He offered her a smile. “For being there, and… being someone I can always trust to stay alive.”

Mikasa blinked and turned away, tugging her scarf up, but Armin didn’t miss the slight flush that crept into her cheeks. “Well. Um. Thanks.” She sounded like she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“It’s all here?” They looked over as the stablemaster suddenly appeared in the doorway, and Mikasa snapped back to full alertness. “Perfect timing, the transfer’s just pulling in. Do you have time to help load up?”

Armin and Mikasa exchanged a glance. “I think so,” Armin said. “There’s still a little time before we get started, and they seemed to have things covered out in the field.”

“Great, thanks.” The stablemaster grinned. “It’s weird to not have all the action centered around the stables for once… though I do miss my helpers. I’ll leave you to it, I gotta get back to some re-shoeing.” She ducked back out with a wave. A moment later the back of a wagon blocked the entrance instead, carefully backing partway into the barn. The driver alighted, and Armin blinked in surprise as a familiar figure turned away from the wagon, saw Armin and Mikasa, and beamed.

“Well, look who it is!” The woman greeted, strolling over. “I hoped I’d see some'a yer faces when I took this job.”

“Ker,” Armin said, unable to mask his surprise. “Are you working for the military now?”

“Now an’ then,” she said with a grin. There was remarkably more color in her face than the last time they’d met, and her eyes were much less haggard. “I asked for this delivery special though. It was on my way anyway, an’ I wanted a chance to drop by.”

“You look like you’re doing well,” Armin said with a smile.

“So do you,” she returned to them both, then tilted her head at Armin and teased, “I almost didn’t recognize ya without all the dirt.”

“What brought you out this way?” Mikasa asked as the three of them began to load the empty fuel drums into the back of the wagon. “You said you were in the area.”

“Oh, I was deliverin’ the last round of neutralizer,” Ker said. “They think with this batch, everything should be back to normal.”

Mikasa gave a nod of approval and Armin sighed in relief. When Historia and her forces had returned to occupy Jalrut, they had discovered a lab in the basement of the tavern where the knaproot’s natural herbicide had been extracted and enhanced. Adler’s MPs had managed to spread their herbicide over so much of the land by the time their schemes were uncovered, and examination of the soil had shown a steep rise in acidity that all but ruined its ability to grow crops. The lab had since been repurposed for developing a way to neutralize the effects. It was too late for the summer and fall harvests, but the soil was recovering, and Historia had ordered for the distribution of some of the mountain base’s stockpiled goods to make up for the shortage.

“That’s great news,” Armin said.

“Yeah.” Ker shook her head slowly before hefting up another barrel. “I still can’t believe all that was goin’ on right under our noses that whole time. A tunnel to outside the Walls… who’da thought?”

“You had other things to worry about,” Armin pointed out with a shrug.

“True enough. But Jalrut’s days of livin’ hand to mouth are over.” Ker beamed. “We own our own land now, an’ yer forces are helpin’ business rather than drainin’ it. Alina’s back home buildin’ an extension to our stables as we speak!” She proudly puffed out her chest. “If any of yer little group ever gets stationed at the new Jalrut outpost, you’ve always got a spot at our table.”

“Likewise.” Armin smiled. “It’s a shame you’re here at such a hectic time, I’m sure the officers would’ve liked to say hi…”

“No worries. I gotta get movin’ to the refill station, anyway.” Ker dusted off her hands as Mikasa easily plunked the last fuel drum into the back of the wagon. “Yer gonna need these again on the other side, after all.” She patted the side of the wagon and winked.

“True enough,” Armin echoed with a grin.

Another bout of voices trailed through the thin barn walls. Armin couldn’t make them out very well, but Mikasa’s head perked up. “I think I’m needed,” she said, taking a sideways step towards the door. “Good to see you.” Mikasa gave Ker a nod, then glanced at Armin for a wordless exchange. And with that, she was gone.

“I should probably get going too,” Armin said. “We’ll be starting soon.”

“Me, too.” Ker climbed back up into the driver’s seat, peering down at Armin, eyes sparkling with vitality. “Luck be with ya.”

\--

Ker’s wagon trundled off down the road. As Armin rounded the corner of the bell tower he nearly crashed headlong into Hanji, who stumbled back with a mountain of record books and messy folders piled up in their arms.

“Oh! Sorry!” Hanji regained their footing and gave a sheepish grin. “I gotta watch where I’m going.”

“Do you need help?” Armin asked, the words an automatic habit.

“No, no. I’ve got it.” Hanji casually brushed off the offer, but a few sheets of paper slipped out of the pile and floated to the ground. “Dammit—” They scrambled to gather them up, but then a book tumbled off on the other side as they tried to reach down, scattering loose pages across the cobblestone.

Armin hesitated briefly. “Here,” he said, stooping to collect the fallen documents. “Are these just going to the archives?” He stacked them into a neat pile and stood, making no move to put them back on the precarious mountain.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Hanji acquiesced, falling silent as the two of them carried the documents into the administration building. The circumstances surrounding the Jalrut and mountain base investigation had required them to work in close proximity, but ever since they’d exposed the coup, Hanji had been keeping their distance. Even when Armin had collaborated with them on some new developments, it had been in a group setting, and strictly formal. He wasn’t complaining – it was what he’d asked for, after all. But he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a little awkward, now that the original chaos had died down. Once again, he was starting to feel as if the incident was creeping back in to loom over their every interaction.

Maybe that was why he spoke now. “You just missed Ker,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him. “She was here to pick up the fuel drums.”

Hanji’s head snapped up in surprise – whether at the news or the fact that he addressed them at all, he couldn’t be sure. “Oh,” they said, sounding disarmed. “I’m sorry I missed her. If she’d come at a better time, we could’ve treated her as a proper guest…”

“You might get another chance. It sounds like she’ll be delivering our refills, too.”

“Even better! She’ll get to see firsthand what she helped make possible.” Hanji’s words stopped abruptly, and Armin could almost sense where their thoughts were turning. Another silence fell. They reached the archives and the record-keeper blanched at the messy stack of documents she’d have to sort through, then gestured for them to leave it in the back room. It was dim and quiet back here, and filled with the comforting scent of ink and parchment.

Hanji dumped their armful of documents unceremoniously atop the table in the center and paused, hands lingering on the smooth wooden edge. They looked like they were debating whether to speak or not. Armin set down his own stack, and debated whether to let them or not.

The last time Hanji had tried to talk to him had been at Adler’s tribunal – a real one that time, not rigged with people in the Major’s favor. Queen Historia herself had presided, listening with cold dispassion as Commander Erwin laid out their evidence of Adler and his faction’s crimes. The transport documents from the tunnel, one of the plants they’d brought back from Outside, an old beer bottle containing the illicit herbicide mixture. Mikasa testified for their discovery of the tunnel, Eren and Hanji for their exploration of the mountain base. The MPs they had confronted there begrudgingly said their piece, as well as the surly officers and one flustered bookkeeper they had named as accomplices. Some had tried to argue against the evidence, others had tried to justify it. Their turns at the center of this room would come.

And Armin was called on to recount the events of his kidnapping. Adler, bound and haggard, hadn’t moved for the whole tribunal. But the moment Armin stepped forward to speak, Adler turned his head and fixed him with a hollow-eyed glare so full of pure hatred and malice that he’d faltered. For a moment, Adler was dangerous again and Armin was shrinking down, his heart blocking his airway.

But no. Adler was in shackles, had one arm ruined, the memento of Armin’s grapple in his shoulder. It was less than what he deserved. Armin had taken a deep breath. He’d spoken. Kept his voice steady and flat, refusing to let it waver. Refusing to give Adler the satisfaction, refusing to allow pity from the courtroom’s hundreds of prying eyes. He just stated the facts, clipped and formal. And when he was done he faded back into the crowd as the trial continued, and when everyone’s eyes turned back to the ragged man in the center, Eren had squeezed Armin’s hand so hard it hurt, and Armin had welcomed the distraction from his own shuddering heartbeat. And Adler had gone away in chains, without ever uttering a word.

Hanji had pulled Armin aside as the throng filed out of the courtroom. “Thanks,” they said, voice sober.

“For what?” Armin replied testily. His chest was still roiling with a mixture of anger and pain and his resentment towards Hanji had bubbled back to the surface. “All I did was tell the truth.” And with that he’d pulled away, not waiting for them to respond, and Hanji hadn’t tried to stop him.

Now, Armin waited. Hanji stared at their hands for a moment longer, then took a breath.

“Listen,” they said finally, turning to fix him with a serious gaze. “I’m not going to insult you by trying to justify my past decisions. I just want you to know… I appreciate everything you’ve done to help. Everything you’ve continued to do.” Hanji’s expression was firm and unchanging. “I’m not asking for anything from you. I just want you to know.”

Before Armin had a chance to respond, Hanji gave him a brisk nod. “See you on the field,” they said, and then they were gone.

\--

Armin made his way slowly back towards the field, contemplative. He didn’t feel… unsettled, exactly. He wasn’t sure where to place whatever it was he was feeling. But there wasn’t time to ruminate. In the gaps between the buildings he could see the skeletal remnants of Eren’s decomposing Titan form – meaning they’d be just about ready by now. He should get to his place.

But before he got across the courtyard, a set of quick footsteps caught his attention. He looked up to see Eren hurrying towards him, eyes bright, remnant Titan markings just beginning to fade.

“There you are,” he said with a grin. “I thought you were with Mikasa, and she came back already.” He glanced around the courtyard, at the other soldiers rushing by, busy with their own tasks.

“Yeah,” Armin said. “Sorry for the delay, I just ran into—”

Before he could finish, Eren was tugging him by the elbow and Armin suddenly found himself in the shadowed alley between the mess hall and the kitchen, Eren’s lips pressed against his.

Between his surprise and delight at the enthusiastic gesture, Armin’s confused thoughts melted away. He stifled a laugh, and Eren pulled back slightly.

“And here I thought you had the mission in mind,” Armin teased, bumping his nose against Eren’s.

“Sorry,” Eren apologized sheepishly. “I’m just excited.” The hand still cupping the back of Armin’s elbow slipped up to rest flat-palmed over his shoulderblade.

Armin smiled up at him. “I am, too. We really did it,” he said softly. Sometimes it still felt like a dream. But Eren was here, standing in his space, warm and solid and real.

“Yeah.” Eren’s lips rested in a gentle curve. “Well, partly anyway. I guess we can’t really call it done until the Titans are gone.” The edges of his smile faded slightly.

“True. But we’re getting there,” Armin reminded him, slipping a hand up to Eren’s jaw, getting his eyes to refocus on him. “We have a base Outside now, we have air power now… We can really start coming at them from all sides. Really start reclaiming territory.” He tilted his head. “That’s pretty good progress for half a year.”

Eren regarded him thoughtfully. “It is,” he agreed, though his tone indicated a _but._ “D’you think… it was worth it?”

Armin let out a breath, his gaze drifting down to the empty space behind Eren’s shoulder. _I’m not going to insult you by trying to justify my past decisions._ It hadn’t been worded as a traditional apology, but maybe that was for the best. Armin was sick of feeling pitied. “From a tactical standpoint, absolutely.”

Eren watched his expression. “And from a personal standpoint?” Not pushing, only prompting.

“From a personal standpoint,” Armin said, looking back up at him, “we’re alive and in one piece. And that’s probably the best possible outcome.” His voice was firm, and steady.

“Yeah… you’re probably right,” Eren relented, taking Armin’s cue. “And we get to go Outside. Way past the gates. We already found our first Outside plant and everything. Or, does that one count? Since it was still in a fortress.”

“It counts.” The smile was blooming on Armin’s face again. “Soon I bet we’ll be able to fill a whole book with the new plants we find.”

“We won’t be able to put seashells in a book, though.” Eren’s eyes gleamed. “What should we do about those?”

An indescribable warmth swelled in Armin’s chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll find somewhere to put them.”

“We’ll be able to go wherever we want. Won’t have to wait for expeditions or anything.”

“I can’t wait,” Armin murmured, leaning up to catch Eren’s lips again. They welcomed him, warm and pliant as they pressed softly back.

\--

The field was a chaos of motion and voices, a mad scramble of activity and shouted orders. As Eren and Armin hurried to take their place, they found Mikasa already there. She greeted them with a nod. Despite her stoicism, Armin could see restlessness in the shifting of her feet. He grinned at her.

“Ready?” He asked.

She nodded firmly, a glint in her eyes.

The clear sky was nearly blotted out above them. Three huge canopies filled the air above the field, the fabric new and clean, in the muted forest green of the Survey Corps. Bigger, stronger, attached to brand new baskets and sporting the rudimentary propeller steering they’d been developing since their return. All possible thanks to the increased government funding after the undeniable success of the balloon’s first mission, and the exposure of the coup.

“Take your positions!” Hanji bellowed. The chaos abated somewhat as everyone on the field hurried to their places, taking with them the last forgotten pieces of tubing or stray bits of rope. The groups sounded off – emergency first-aid team, the three tether squads, and of course, the pilot squads. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were in one balloon; Sasha, Connie, and Jean were in another; Hanji, Erwin, and Levi had the third.

Erwin stepped forward, looking around. Almost everyone on base was gathered around to watch this momentous occasion, although their numbers were even sparser than usual – about half the Survey Corps forces had already departed some days ago. Right now they’d be travelling on horseback through a long, dark tunnel, preparing to meet the pilots in a mountain outside the Walls. The rest of the troops would be following after this.

“This expedition,” Erwin began, his booming voice silencing the last murmurs of the crowd, “is a landmark in the history of humanity. With our steadily-developing air power and the installment of the first military outpost outside the Walls, our ability to fight the Titans has expanded far beyond what it was at the beginning of the year. This is in no small part thanks to the efforts of the excellent soldiers at the center of the conflict a few months ago.” He made a sweeping gesture to the other balloon pilots, as well as Hurst and Rook, who stood nearby. For the briefest of moments, Erwin’s gaze caught Armin’s and held it. Then he continued. “As well as all of you who stood firm against the Military Police's incursion on our base. Together, we will keep making strides. We will beat back the Titans and make the world safe for humanity once again!” Erwin snapped into a salute and the crowd followed suit with a roar. “Let the operation commence!”

And at once, everything was moving again. The pilots began to climb into their baskets – Erwin hefted himself smoothly in while Hanji coaxed Levi, who still looked a little reluctant. Sasha looked positively green while Jean helped hoist Connie up over the edge of theirs.

Eren got into their own basket first, bracing his palms on the edge and swinging his legs over. Mikasa followed, hopping in effortlessly. Then Armin, a little less gracefully.

“You’ll have to be careful when we launch,” Eren was reminding Mikasa as he strapped on his goggles and pulled on the gloves they’d been issued. “It’s pretty jarring.”

“I know,” Mikasa said. “We all did the training drills.”

“Yeah, well, it’s different going long-distance,” he said haughtily. “We’ll have to constantly keep an eye on our altitude and the wind direction and make sure we don’t get separated from the group.” He went to yank on the propeller’s starter cord, and frowned in confusion when nothing happened. Without saying a word, Mikasa reached up to flip open the fuel valve. The machine coughed and sputtered as it began to warm up. Eren turned red. Mikasa looked at Armin and rolled her eyes, and Armin suppressed a laugh.

“At the ready!” Erwin boomed. A chorus of affirmatives went up from the field. Armin reached for his own goggles. As he did, he caught Hanji’s eye from their place beside Erwin. Hanji started to make a gesture, then caught themself and lowered their hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Armin offered them a small nod. Then he pulled on his goggles, focusing back on the Commander as Hanji’s face split into a wide grin.

“Launch!”

Erwin’s hand cut decisively through the air. Armin felt the lurch in his stomach that was beginning to grow familiar, but he still had to grab for support. Mikasa caught her breath beside him, and before the rushing air drowned out the sounds around them he could hear Hanji whooping and Sasha’s stream of shrill curses from the other baskets. And they were ascending.

Mikasa found her feet before either of them and straightened up. “Keep an eye out for Hanji’s signal to start the propeller,” she said, trying to mask the slight shakiness of her voice. “Okay, you’re right. It’s a little different not having the tether,” she admitted.

“You say that now, but you’ll be more adjusted than all of us in a few minutes,” Eren grumbled without any real irritation. The three of them caught each other’s gaze and shared a grin, giddy with the adrenaline and terrifying thrill of standing in a basket in the sky as it carried them farther up.

“Mikasa,” Eren said, his eyes bright as he tugged at her sleeve. “Come look.”

She turned and her gaze followed his pointing finger. Wall Maria, the edge sinking down to meet them, and then receding below them, and this was higher than the practice drills had taken them, and there were the rolling hills beyond, the clear horizon, and the promise of freedom beyond it. Mikasa’s gaze relaxed as she took it in, the farmland and forests like quilted patchwork below them giving way to the wild, open land stretching out forever in the distance.

“It’s the Outside world,” Eren said, excitement seeping into his tone. He looked eager for her reaction. “We can get there now – we’re _going_ there now.” He met Armin’s gaze again and gave him a blinding grin. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“It’s beautiful,” Mikasa agreed quietly. “Seeing it like this… I can kind of get why you two are always going on about it.” She shot them a playful look. “At least I know for sure now that you’re not just crazy.”

Eren snorted, and Armin smiled. “Glad we have your approval,” he teased, and the two of them joined her at the edge, looking out.

The horizon was clear and bright, promising a crisp fall morning. Far off in the distance he could see red and yellow already peppering the trees beyond the Wall. Someday, he thought, he’d get to walk out there, breathe the free air, pick up the fallen leaves to press into a journal crowded to the edges with two sets of handwriting. That day was so close. He could _feel_ it.

Armin looked over as Eren’s hand slipped into his own, warm even through the fabric of their gloves. On the other side, Eren linked his arm with Mikasa’s. She turned her head, regarding them both fondly.

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. Eren’s eyes glinted fiercely. Mikasa tucked her nose into her scarf. Armin squeezed Eren’s hand, and Eren’s thumb grazed over his knuckles. The distant trees rippled like gentle dark waves in some faraway breeze. And still the balloon ascended, carrying the trio up and up. To the sky, and everything that lay beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so... it's done.
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who helped me through this fic - to my best friend, who put up with my pestering him to beta my chapters far longer than I should've asked for, thank you for your patience and sorry for my stubbornness. Whether you believe it or not, you were a huge help and this fic is much better because of your input. To everyone who kept up with this and left comments while it was updating, and to anyone who's left comments and kudos at all, it has meant so so much to know that you enjoyed yourselves and please know that you make the time I spent on this feel worthwhile, and you were a huge factor in my ability to finish this! And to anyone who finds this behemoth now that it's complete and manages to make it this far through all my long-winded ramblings, thank you, too - I'm so flattered you took the time and patience to read it!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the ride - I know I did, and I learned so much in the process. There are a lot of things that I would go back and change now that I have a complete view of the fic - looking back I realize that there's plenty of things I could've condensed, things I could've fleshed out or foreshadowed better, little threads that never really went anywhere, etc. That's the risk of planning as you go I guess, but I don't regret it. I suppose I could go back and tweak little details now, but honestly the idea of going back and thoroughly re-reading my own writing from over two years ago is... a terrifying thought, haha. So for now at least, flawed it will remain.
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much. I hope you have a wonderful day, or night. <3


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